Silent Reverie
by cloudofcalm
Summary: Cordy's visions go on the fritz, when the AI team find a young girl and Wes ends up with an arm-load of teenage girls. FINISHED winner of the angry puppy awards
1. Special

A/N: Okay, a few words, (oh no) before the actual, definitive story. Numero uno, thanks, and kudos to Insane1, who allowed me to bounce ideas off her, at 6.30 in the morning, and read it through. Also to gidgetgirl, who Beta read this, offered huge hints, and suggestions, and formulated a title. If you don't understand it, go bug her.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer : I own nothing, except Jane, Starr, Jess, Gabby, Faye and Sullivan. The rest is all the property of Mutant Enemy.  
  
Spoiler: When Cordelia receives a vision of a little girl about to be killed, she and the AI team rescue her. At the same time, a bucket load of trouble in the form of Potentials lands on Wesley. However, they all have no idea what lies ahead..  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Deftly, Angel caught the stake as it span through the air, and backhanded the vampire racing towards him, catching the fanged one off kilter, and neatly stabbing the sharp point through its undead heart. Brushing away the last little flecks of vampire dust, he turned, to see Cordelia straighten, flanked by Wesley, and Connor.  
  
"Nice catch," Cordelia commented, brushing away the ash, and trying not to grimace at the thought of inhaling some dead guy who had no consideration for the invention of the deodorant. If they had to dust, why couldn't there just be a nice, small pop, and a clean little urn appear, instead of them exploding, and trying to suffocate their defeater in a weird turn of revenge? Plus, vamp dust and rain? Uber bad combo. It was hell on her clothes.  
  
"Thanks," Angel replied, with a small smile. Connor turned away, and Wesley coughed. Cordelia shot them a mock-annoyed look.  
  
"There was nothing to comment on!' she responded. Angel shot her a wry grin.  
  
"They're winding you up."  
  
"Who? Us?" Connor asked innocently, with a smirk of his own. Wesley tucked a stake back inside his jacket pocket, and gestured towards the exit.  
  
"Much as I enjoy spending my time in California skulking in dark alley ways, I seem to have an inherited talent from the Watcher line for getting knocked unconscious when caught off guard. I like to limit the amount of time I spend seeking medical attention, seeing as in America, one has to pay for it," he said, his clipped British tone adding to his sarcasm. "And, employees sometimes try to smother one," he added, in an undertone.  
  
"He does have a point, Angel," Cordelia mused, laying a hand on his arm. He broke the glare at Wesley.  
  
"We're heading back in, anyway."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
As the door swung open in the lobby, Lorne looked up from his perusal of the latest issue of a show biz magazine, noting how the lilac sequins did, in actual fact, compliment the orange suit he'd had sitting in the closet for a rainy day. He sipped his sea breeze, holding it up to the light, in his left hand.  
  
"Fruitful patrol?" he queried, flicking a page over, with his free right hand.  
  
"Oh yeah," Cordy responded. "The vamps were out in full. Does something do it, like tides, or whatever, Angel? 'Cause the number of our dusty little friends out to play was high," Cordelia mused, hanging a crossbow up in the weapons cupboard. Angel gave a small shrug.  
  
"Just someone making trouble. The usual." Connor dropped onto the couch in the centre of the Hyperion's lobby.  
  
"Does it ever stop?" he muttered. Since the death of the man he'd believed to be his father, he had tried to curb his own instincts towards his parents' kind, but there were times when typical teen depression combined with the ranks of the undead, to pull him into a mood darker than a wet day in Wales. Normally, this was cured with a phone call to Sunnydale, and his girlfriend-possibly, Dawn Summers.  
  
Now, Cordelia glanced over with a practised eye.  
  
"You know they're not going to stop coming, Connor. But we help," she reminded. The seventeen year old folded his arms, still scowling, but his crabby mood seemed to lessen.  
  
Fred stepped out of the inner sanctum of the office, clutching a hot pink post-it note. Angel mentally told himself to burn them. Some things just didn't go with the 50's, maroon and black P.I image he cultivated, and bright pink, sticky pieces of paper were among them.  
  
"We got a case," she told them, frowning slightly, as she reread the details. "It's Mrs Johansson. Those Qweller demons are back again." Wesley and Angel exchanged a look, and picked up axes. As they moved toward the door, Cordelia held up a hand.  
  
"Wait! Vision-y thing," she stated, her eyes going the colour of milk, as she levitated a few feet from the floor. Patiently, the two waited for her. Her face crumpled.  
  
"It's a little girl. Alleyway, one we've seen before. Take the left on Ocean-view, and drop down, past the jewellers. She's there. She's about to get." she grimaced, obviously viewing it. "Eaten."  
  
"Demon?" Wesley fired quickly. She shook her head.  
  
"Nope. Regular vampire. But they're obviously hungry." As she dropped gently to the ground, she shook her head, clearing it of the after effects of the vision.  
  
"What are you going to do?" Connor spoke up. Angel considered.  
  
"Gunn, you, and Connor, and Fred, take the Johansson case. Cordelia, and Wes, you're with me. Lorne-"  
  
The blue suited demon raised his glass again.  
  
"Stay behind and circle the wagons? Sure thing, sugar pie."  
  
Angel swung the axe upward gently, resting the handle on his shoulder.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Tired and cold, she slid down the side of the wall, splaying her legs out in front of her. A trickle of water from the drainpipe above her was dropping down the collar of her tee-shirt, but frankly, like the movie her aunt loved watching on TV, with the people in black and white, she didn't give a damn. She was already wet, as several hours walk in pouring rain will do, and blissfully, once she stopped walking, her legs stopped shaking like they were made from jello or something, and she could sit down.  
  
She let her sneakers rest on the pavement, and stared at them. Red with white laces. Same as the ones she'd worn when Mommy had taken her there. They'd kept on replacing them. The picture of Tinker-bell on her tee shirt was faded, like that blouse of Aunt Es that got put in the wash too many times. She poked Tinker-bell. Her own skin showed through the white, it was an old tee shirt. She couldn't remember going to Disneyworld.  
  
The edge of a fire escape caught her shoulder blade, ripping the cotton of her tee-shirt, and scraping her back. She reached round to feel it, but it was on the difficult part of her shoulder blade, and she gave up, curling up in a ball. Wisps of fair-ish hair escaping from the two plaits either side of her head tickled her nose, as fitfully, she fell into dreamless sleep.  
  
Her shoulders were being shaken, gently at first, and then harder. A snatch of memory brought back a face, her Mommy's face, telling her to wake up.  
  
"Kid? Hey, kid. Wake up!" Roughly, she was brought out of her daze and blinked at the face of a stranger. A woman, long blonde hair, and a thick leather jacket dotted with silver studs, was gripping her shoulders.  
  
"It's alive!" she called over one shoulder, toward her companion. Scared now, the girl tried to push the woman away, but she smiled nastily, and jerked her upward to her face, changing, with elongated teeth, and her forehead thickening.  
  
Terrified, she screamed, struggling, and kicking. "Somebody, help me! Please, anybody!"  
  
This amused the woman, and she laughed, taunting in a rasping voice, "You're just a little street kid, a runaway. Who's going to save you?"  
  
A man's hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her, as the girl dropped with a squeak, crashed into the fire escape once more, and lay still.  
  
"Me," Angel answered, his voice level.  
  
It took only a few moments to dispatch the biker vampire, and her sidekick. Fledglings, both of them, not more than two months old. Hardly the accomplished fighters he'd been expecting.  
  
He whirled around, seeing Cordy crouching over a small body. Wesley hunkered down beside her, putting a hand out. Thin, and white, with dark circles around her closed eyes, the child had light hair. She was clad in a pair of grubby jeans, and a strangely pathetic 'Disneyworld' tee shirt, her arms flung out as if she'd attempted to break her fall. But that was not what made him lick his lips uneasily. A gash across her forehead was bleeding, bright, crimson blood, blending, and diluting by the rain still streaking down.  
  
"She needs a doctor," Wesley said shortly, examining it. Cordelia nodded.  
  
"Why her, though? She's only little, but she's the one in my vision. Why would the PTB send me the picture of a little girl getting fed on? How is that a priority?" she questioned, tucking a piece of damp hair behind the girl's earlobe.  
  
"Maybe the potential she holds is greater than her outward appearance, she's special," Wesley replied quietly. Cordelia turned to Angel, her large hazel eyes lit with confusion, and pain.  
  
"Angel? What do we do?" Cursing his demon's reaction to the blood, Angel fought for coherent speech.  
  
"Take her to the hospital. If she has family, a runaway, they'll know what to do."  
  
"She doesn't look like it," Cordelia said softly, glancing at the girl again. "Who would let someone that young on the streets, at night, alone?" No one answered her question.  
  
Instead, Wesley pulled her gently into his arms, and straightened, carrying the child toward the car.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Jess?" The redhead turned, and looked startled.  
  
"Gabby?"  
  
"What happens...when we get there?" A blonde fringe hung in the younger girl's green eyes, but she had them fixed on Jess.  
  
"I don't know, Gabs. I mean, we didn't exactly get told, did we?" Jess tried to smile, but worry appeared in her own blue eyes. The older girl, woman, rather, Starr, dozing in a corner of the carriage lifted her head, the book on her lap lying open.  
  
"It will be okay," she told them. She rested a hand on top of Gabby's fidgeting fingers, and guiltily, the younger blonde looked up at her.  
  
"Gabby, I promise you, we'll be okay. Remember, we were sent, we didn't ask to come. If there's a problem, I have enough money to get us back," she carried on, mind racing to check if it was true. Comforted, Gabby sat back, twirling a strand of soft hair absently, as she stared out of the window.  
  
"See? Starr's here, anyway," Jess reminded, growing impatient, with a toss of auburn curls. She glanced at the older girl, who was sitting back, and saw Starr bite her lip. Maybe Starr wasn't so confident.  
  
The sound of pencils scratching on paper became audible, due to the silence, and a genuine smile flickered across Starr's face, as she watched Faye busily sketching.  
  
"Faye? What would you do if the world ran out of paper?" she asked, teasingly. Brown eyes met her own steady grey gaze fleetingly, and Faye flicked one of her thick brown braids across her shoulder, and hitched her glasses up her nose with a finger.  
  
"Die," she answered, with a brief, darting grin, before returning to the page. Jess stretched, bored.  
  
"That's stupid, anyway. When's that ever going to help-?" she demanded, her foot catching the bag under the table, as Starr dived towards it, but it was too late.  
  
The innocent looking khaki rucksack spilled its cargo, several stakes skittered across the floor, and the lethal point of a crossbow peered out.  
  
Quickly, Starr scrambled to pick them up, cursing the interested looks of people peering over at them. As she straightened, fastening the bag tightly, three different stares met her own eyes. Faye, her cheeks still tinged with pink looked worried, Gabby was scared, and Jess, though looking perturbed, was still belligerent.  
  
"It's okay Gabby. No one saw," she reassured. Gabby and Faye dropped their eyes, knowing what was coming next.  
  
"Jessamy Kendall!" Starr hissed furiously. Jess met her eyes, but flushed, which only increased her stubbornness.  
  
"Well it is! I didn't mean to tip over the bag. They always said it was stupid, and Faye knows it!" she announced, high and clear, glaring at the brunette, whose cheeks flooded with colour a second time.  
  
"And they were wrong," Starr cut in, her grey eyes hard. "They died, remember? We survived, and Faye can draw all she wants to. We're not like little robots," she said angrily, and then looked at Jess again. The girl looked confused. Sighing, Starr explained.  
  
"Jess, they didn't want Faye to draw because they didn't want her concentration diverted. But it isn't right. She's only 12, and maybe one day, she *won't* be the one. She'll be an ordinary girl, and they'll have destroyed that. She'll have nothing left. What are you going to do when you're too old?" the anger had faded now, and a hint of something deeper was in Starr's tone. Jess stared at her, steadfast.  
  
"But you're too old. You stayed," she protested. Starr ran her fingers through her short black hair, frustrated.  
  
"I was different. I didn't want what happened to me, to us, to happen to you. I stayed to protect you." She sighed again. "It doesn't matter, okay? Be more careful another time, and let Faye draw if she wants to." They settled back, silent once again, but tenser, as the train rattled on.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Dr Whitson scanned the clipboard put into his hands by Marybeth, who had been flustered. He looked up, glancing at the couple. A woman, with short dark hair, and big hazel eyes, dressed impeccably, and tall dark and handsome, with his face stony. If he had a dime for every good looking guy who had gay fantasies..He cut that train of thought short. He had a perfectly good boyfriend.  
  
"You would be Jane's parents?" he queried, raising an eyebrow. The woman looked confused. Maybe she was just a friend.?  
  
"Jane?" she repeated. He nodded.  
  
"Yes. On her necklace. Jane Ashborough, 5/7/95. I assumed it was her name, and birth date?" his voice had a questioning tone. Hurriedly, the woman nodded, chocolate brown hair falling over her face.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Jane. 8 years old." She looked up at big, brooding and gorgeous, who gave the slightest nod. Reassured, he went on.  
  
"The cut on Jane's forehead, it's not serious. Head wounds normally bled a great deal, but it didn't require stitches," he continued comfortingly. "She should be fine. We're keeping her in overnight, observation, for a concussion, as she got knocked unconscious, but it's just procedure. I'm sure she'd welcome her parents," he gave them a warm smile.  
  
Cordy looked at Angel again, uncertain. Obviously, the doctor thought they were the little girl's, Jane's, she mentally corrected herself, parents. What were they going to do?  
  
"Thanks," Angel replied. "We'll see her." A smiling blonde woman entered, wearing a bright pink outfit, consisting of a baggy top, and trousers.  
  
"Hi, I'm Marybeth. I'm the nurse on Jefferson ward, where Jane is?" she led them to a brightly painted ward, covered in pictures of dancing animals, and balloons, and then into a quieter, bland room, just off it.  
  
"We put Jane in here, hoping that she'll be able to sleep better. She'll have a headache from that bump on the noggin she got," the nurse explained in a whisper, as they sat down next to the bed. "And that necklace, it really needs seeing to. It's really dangerous for a kid to go around with something that can't be taken off. I'd have the clasp seen to, if I were you." She left, pulling the door to.  
  
Angel and Cordelia exchanged a look.  
  
"I have no idea," she answered. "They said they got her name from her necklace. It's probably still on her."  
  
They bent over the sleeping child. Her hair had been combed out, and lay across her shoulders. Her face had been washed, and she was dressed in a blue hospital issue nightgown. The rising and falling of the white blanket indicated her steady breathing. Gently, Cordy probed in the blankets, exposing the neck. A silver chain hung around it, and holding her breath, Cordelia picked up the small pendant on it.  
  
Pendant, more like dog tags, really. Almost army issue in their austerity, with the name, 'Jane Ashborough' engraved on one side, and '5/7/95' on the other, and underneath that, '2/6/00'. She threaded the chain through her fingers, looking for an available clasp, but there was none. The ends had been welded together, creating a smooth continuation.  
  
Hissing out the breath, she sat back.  
  
"It's like they said," she whispered. "Jane Ashborough. 5th of August, 1995, she's 8 years old. God, who would put that on a kid?"  
  
"It's like we thought. She's different."  
  
The child stirred, tossing the bedclothes. She opened brown eyes, and took in the two people standing at her side.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked. Angel backed off, while Cordy stepped forwards.  
  
"Honey, we found you, in the alley. You remember what happened?" she asked, her tone light. Jane rubbed her eyes.  
  
"The woman, she grabbed me. She wanted to kill me." Cordelia met Angel's eyes.  
  
"Yeah, sweetie. She did. But Angel saved you. We brought you here because you knocked your head. We had to check that you were okay." Cordelia smiled. "Why were you there, Jane?"  
  
Startled at the sound of her name, the girl raised her head.  
  
"How do you know me?" she demanded, her voice rising, sounding panicked.  
  
"Your necklace. Your name, Jane Ashborough? It's on your necklace." Her head dropped back onto the pillow, relaxing slightly.  
  
"Oh. Yeah, that's my name. Jane."  
  
"How old are you, Jane?" Angel questioned, moving forward. She raised her head again.  
  
"I'm 8, I think," she answered. Her voice was quiet, as quiet as Fred's.  
  
"Why were you in the alley, Jane?" Cordelia repeated, reaching out and tucking a tendril of fair hair behind Jane's ear.  
  
"I was walking," the little girl replied. She shifted, clearly uncomfortable.  
  
"Where are your parents, Jane?" Cordy added. Jane met her eyes, steadily.  
  
"My parents are dead. No one's left," she stated, her voice quavering only slightly.  
  
Cordelia swept her into a hug, holding her tight. The soft gold glow began to start, enveloping her, and Jane, but Jane didn't look scared. Curling like an animal towards kindness, she relaxed in the Seer's arms, and the peaceful feeling left her drowsy. Eventually, she fell asleep, as the light faded.  
  
"Angel, what are we going to do? If she hasn't any parents." Cordelia met his eyes.  
  
"We'll take her back to the hotel. It doesn't seem likely that two vampires trying to feed from her is the only reason the Powers would send you a vision. She must still need protecting. And the authorities would only put her into care. She doesn't appear to have family," he answered finally.  
  
"The necklace- it just seems weird that some kid would have that. It looks like what soldiers get in the army, you know, they send them home in a little velvet box when they get killed, or whatever." Angel raised an eyebrow.  
  
"We'll take her back with us."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Wesley was pacing in the hallway, his hands shoved in his pockets. He glimpsed the two figures, and moved quickly towards them.  
  
"Angel. What's happening?" he asked. Cordelia glanced at the vampire, clearly expecting him to respond. After a minute, Angel replied,  
  
"We think she's not out of danger yet. A vision isn't normally this easy," he paused, then continued. "Her name is Jane Ashborough. 8 years old. She's an orphan, as far as she tells us. We're bringing her back." A querying look rose on the Englishman's face, but he stayed silent.  
  
"Wesley, go back to the hotel. Get Fred. Get her on a net search, on Jane Ashborough, 1995. Any info on 2000 in connection with her name. Also, have her make up a spare room," Angel instructed. "Cordy and I will stay here. I think we're going to have to fill out a few forms, but I'm going to try to find Doctor Gregerson, the guy we've operated with in the past." He strode off down the brightly lit corridor.  
  
"I'll see you in an hour's time," Wesley said, with a grim smile, as he moved off in the opposite direction.  
  
"Peachy. Guess I find out when they'll release her," Cordelia muttered to herself, walking toward the reception.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Connor swished the sword, blocking and parrying, slicing in elegant cuts, spinning, and twirling in the intricate routine. Gunn brought down a wooden quarterstaff, blocking the next move.  
  
"Hey there, Jackie Chan," he grinned.  
  
"Gunn. You startled me," Connor commented, hanging the sword in it's place, on the wall.  
  
"Yeah? Angel and Cordy will be back soon. They managed to get the doc to give the little girl an early release." Gunn led the way up the stairs.  
  
"How old is she?" Connor asked, stepping into the brighter kitchen.  
  
"Eight years old. Man, that's screwed up. Vampires eating little kids, it's sick," Gunn grimaced.  
  
Fred strolled towards them, her eyes scanning the pages of a huge book.  
  
"It states here, in the 'aspects of the defixio' that the form of a virgin is often palatable to demonic entities, requiring sacrificial duties, or a host for various possessions.' She screwed her nose. "There're illustrations."  
  
"You think this little girl's in trouble 'cuz some big bad wants to feed her to something?" Gunn broke down. Fred nodded. "Oh. Then we've already done that."  
  
"We have?" Connor asked.  
  
"Yeah. Well, I didn't. Wes did. And he has a really nice work ethic when dealing with potential virgin sacrifices, " Gunn grinned. Connor gave an answering smirk.  
  
"Charles?" the black man turned to look at his girlfriend, who had a questioning look in her brown eyes.  
  
"Sorry, Fred," he replied reluctantly.  
  
Connor grinned again, and then dropped onto the couch in the lobby, awaiting Cordy, and Angel.  
  
The door opened, and Angel stepped through. A small girl was standing at Cordelia's side, blinking at the light. She was wearing what appeared to be brand new clothes, a pale blue sweater, with a daisy knitted on the front, a pair of jeans, and sneakers. Her hair, in between blonde, and brown, was tied back.  
  
"Angel, Lorne," Cordelia muttered. Angel glanced at the little girl, who had been silent since she'd woken up.  
  
"Gunn? Can you check Lorne is comfortable?" he called. Gunn caught on, and turned towards the kitchen.  
  
"Everyone, this is Jane," Cordy said brightly, her hand on Jane's shoulder. The girl remained expressionless.  
  
"Hi Jane. I'm Fred," piped up a brown haired, thin woman, who was smiling warmly at her. Jane shrank back, and bumped into the woman who had brought her, Cordelia.  
  
"Jane, this is Wesley. He was there at the hospital," Cordelia told her. A dark haired man, lifted a hand.  
  
"That's Connor," Cordelia pointed, at a man who looked younger than the others. He merely looked back at her, directly.  
  
"And this is Gunn," she finished, as the black man re-entered.  
  
She crouched, till she was level with Jane's own eyes.  
  
"Look, sweetie, we're going to look after you for a bit, if that's okay with you," she said softly, holding Jane's hands. Jane peered back at the group of people in the room. They seemed normal. No monsters, or witches, or anything that she remembered. Normal people.  
  
"It's okay," she replied, her voice no louder than a whisper.  
  
"Great. Now, we have a room for you upstairs, and we have a pair of pyjamas, from the store, remember?" the lady said again. Jane nodded.  
  
"Okay. Well, it's late, and I'm sure you're still sleepy, so let's get you into bed," she said, standing back up again, and taking Jane's hand in her own.  
  
They watched Cordy lead Jane upstairs, without a word.  
  
"What'd you think she's thinking?" Connor asked, no one in particular.  
  
"I don't know. I just know, she hasn't said a word since we picked her up," Angel answered, walking out of the kitchen. "Fred, you checked her out?" The brunette nodded.  
  
"Yeah. It was correct. Jane Ashborough. Born 5/7/95, in California. No information as far as where. Medical records, in New York, show her having shots when she was two, there, and then in Chicago, she had chicken pox, when she was four. No more records, until tonight. No school records, at all. I cross checked. Her parents, Moira Ashborough, and father unknown. Moira Ashborough, died 15/3/96. Guardianship passed to Moira's sister, Esther Ashborough. She died five months ago. No record of Jane. Like I said, it's as if all records of her have been wiped," Fred explained, frowning.  
  
Cordelia walked down the stairs, her hand gliding along the banister.  
  
"Jane's asleep. God, this is so weird. I don't think it's right, you know, that we have her?" she said, wondering.  
  
"There's no record of her being anyone else's," Angel told her. Cordelia looked toward Fred, who blinked.  
  
"Yeah. Her guardian died five months ago, and the last real record of her is when she was 2. "  
  
"So we're the only ones, who could.." Cordelia tailed off. "We've got to keep a hold on her. Make sure she's safe from this big Bad."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Please review! 


	2. Red

A/N: Huge thanks go to the reviewers so far.  
  
PyroBear ~ Thanks for the input. Yeah, I realised we English do dates and stuff differently, *after* I posted. I tried to keep the British to a minimum though. And it was long, I agree. Fluffy, non-needing concentration fairly short chapter ahead.  
  
Gidgetgirl ~ Thanks for all the Beta-ing, ideas, and stuff you could have happily used on your own. I owe you, though I think offering to Beta your stuff would not be the same thing..lol.  
  
DarkSlayer ~ wow. Words of praise indeed! I don't really agree on it sounding like the Angel novels, mainly cuz I emulated other people's styles in this. And they don't sound like Angel novels. Maybe it was the absence of anything remotely fluffy that did it!  
  
Tariq ~ Sorry to disappoint you. It's A/C. But if you liked it so much when you thought it could possibly *not* be A/C, why not try continuing?  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
"She's 8," Wesley frowned. "Shouldn't she be in school, or whatnot?" Cordelia looked at Angel, a new concern etched on her face.  
  
"Oh God, yes. She should be. There's so much little girls need. I mean, she'll need clothes, and school, and stuff, loads of stuff." She put a hand to her forehead, sighing. "Sometime, I wish the PTB were a lot less cryptic."  
  
"You and me both, Cor," Lorne stepped out of the kitchen, scanning it for evidence of the child. "I take it I'm now an unwanted houseguest?" Cordelia turned.  
  
"Oh, sorry, Lorne. It's just almost getting eaten by the things that go bump in the night is enough for the time being. She doesn't even know us, and we've taken her home. I don't want to kick you out, but-"  
  
"Darlin' I get it. If you guys hadn't trashed my hotspot, I'd still be there, trading melodies, and recipes for drinks," he smiled at the memory. "Still, I understand the little honey-pie needs introducing to the demon world about as drastically as she needs a couple of holes in her itty bitty neck, so I'm on out."  
  
"Cordelia, I'm returning home, as well. It is past three," Wesley said quietly. She nodded distractedly.  
  
"Sure, Wes. Connor, you oughta be upstairs as well,' she instructed.  
  
"See you in the morning then," the teen replied, leaping up the stairs easily.  
  
"Charles, I'm going to keep researching. It's as if something's blocking me from getting the full download," Fred looked back at the imac.  
  
"You sure?" he questioned then shrugged. "Okay. See ya upstairs." Fred seated herself back at the computer, sipping a cup of coffee, absently, which was in front of the monitor. Moments later, she made a noise, and cupped her hand over her mouth.  
  
"Ew," she said in disgust, then, to no one, "Cold."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Jane?"  
  
The little girl looked up, big brown eyes fixed on Cordelia's own.  
  
"It's time." Kissing Angel lightly on the cheek, Cordy smoothly elevated her shoulder bag, and slipped his credit card inside it, securely. She looked back down at the girl, who pushed the bowl of cereal away. The eight year old had been in the hotel for nearly two days, and her presence was hardly registering. Twice, she'd had to catch herself before she mentioned the 'D' word in front of Jane, who was so quiet, and never seemed to be there. Finally, the case with the Johanssons sorted out, she had time to do what she did best, blitz on clothing.  
  
She held out a hand, and Jane slid off the chair, and came forward to take it. Cordy flashed a smile back at Angel as they departed, and he smiled, seeing her check her walk to match that of the younger female. Two bunches of pale hair hung down Jane's neck, evidence of Cordy, and she seemed to grow in confidence as she paced at Cordelia's side.  
  
He sighed, turning back to a case file. They had learnt nothing more from Jane, just that she was incredibly quiet, and from her behaviour, had experienced something she was not ready to talk about.  
  
He picked up the wad of post-it notelets, Cordelia's distinctive handwriting on each one, making notes on the little girl, likes, Cheerios, cookies, spaghetti, ice cream, (the result of trying to persuade her to talk, last night) dislikes, oatmeal, eggs, (he'd been hurt at that) full fat milk, and orange juice. He looked down in dismay. Several of the sticky pink slips had attached themselves to his fingers. He tried to pull them off, but this only transferred them from one side, and set of fingers, to the other. Detached regard failed him, and panic ensued. Staring at him hands, he began to wonder wildly if he'd ever get the things off.  
  
"Fred-!" he called.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"So, what's your favourite colour, kiddo?" Cordy asked, conversationally. She glanced over at Jane. The girl was staring at the toes of her sneakers, and playing with the chain around her neck.  
  
"Hey! Jane!" she called. Jane's head snapped up. Cordelia carried on flicking through the racks of kids clothing. 25 dollars for a shirt? It wasn't even a good shirt..Meh. Angel's money.  
  
"Red," she heard, in a whisper. She turned, still holding one of the offending shirts.  
  
"Jane?" The child met her eyes.  
  
"Red," she stated clearly. Cordelia looked back over the clothes. Pastels, mainly.  
  
"We're not gonna find anything here, sweetie. Let's go spend Angel's money somewhere nice and expensive," she grinned at the girl. Jane gave an answering shy smile, and placed her small hand in Cordy's, without prompting. Squeezing it, Cordy strolled towards the red section of the new store.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Hamburgers," Cordelia sang out. Angel looked puzzled, as he stepped out of the office, to see Jane helping Cordy carry large numbers of bags inside.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Hamburgers. Add it to the likes list," the ex-cheerleader explained, as if it was perfectly clear what she had meant.  
  
He scowled.  
  
"The likes list is dead. And buried," he added, for dramatic effect. She put her hands on her hips.  
  
"I left the likes list for a couple of hours! What did you do to it?"  
  
"He burnt it," Connor supplied cheerfully, walking out of the kitchen. "Got it stuck to his hands, so he burnt it." She frowned.  
  
"Angel, did I or did I not tell you that post -its are reasonable things, and useful? You do NOT burn my likes list!"  
  
"They are not," he argued back defensively, ignoring the pointlessness, and utter ridiculousness of the situation. "They're evil."  
  
Cordelia raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
"They are!" he repeated, plaintively. Cordelia merely walked away, picking up a pair of bags, and ascending the stairs.  
  
"Post-it's are evil!" he cried. Gunn patted him on the shoulder.  
  
"You lost, big guy." Angel looked at Jane, who was giggling.  
  
"Hey! Don't you get in on the act too!" he told her, which increased the volume of her laughter. He smiled.  
  
"What did you and Cordy buy?" he queried. She took on a solemn look.  
  
"I'm s'posed to tell you that at least five outfits are absolutely neca..ness.necessary for a girl's so..so-shull standing," she finished triumphantly.  
  
Angel rolled his eyes, but kept his smile.  
  
"Oh they are, are they?"  
  
"Yes," Jane nodded decisively.  
  
"What are you two grinning at?" Cordy asked, mock sighing. Angel pointed at Jane, and she, catching on, pointed at him.  
  
"He did it," she announced, with a smile. Cordelia raised another brow.  
  
"So. Burning innocent post-its, and making people grin. Angelus is making a return," she said, and then gave a wicked grin. "The leather pants unfortunately haven't made a come back."  
  
"No. They decided since the post-its arrival, they were out evil-ed, and sacrificed themselves," Angel answered. Gunn and Connor looked at Jane.  
  
"C'mon, kid. You want to get out if here before it gets mushy," Angel heard Gunn tell Jane, as the two males bore her away, and Cordy descended with a smile.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	3. Demons

A/N: Much hanks go to gidgetgirl, and others for reviewing. This chapter has been Beta-d (in part) so should be no mistakes. Please, begging here, I need reviews. I'm a lil' junkie, and stories don't get finished without 'em. So if you're sitting there, going, 'not gonna review' think about it. I've written over 2000 words here. You can spare me 10. Please? Hey! You! The one who never reviews! Even *you* should review this time.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"So, school, huh?"  
  
Jane nodded mutely, her hands clasped in her lap, head bowed over them, long fair hair forming curtains either side. Gunn looked her over again, thoughtfully.  
  
"You know, I had a sister once," he told her. She looked up, her big brown eyes meeting his.  
  
"Really? Where is she?"  
  
"She went to Heaven," he replied, a lump in his throat at the thought of Alanna. She nodded, going back to staring at her fingers again.  
  
"Like my family," she said softly.  
  
"Yeah. Alanna was a few years younger than me, I always kept an eye out for her, y'know? I remember the day she started school, when our parents were still around. She was so scared I hought her eyes were gonna pop out of her head," he chuckled. The attention of the eight year old was aroused, and she lifted her head to tell him matter-of-factly,  
  
"Eyes don't pop out of heads, Gunn."  
  
"I'm serious! I swear it, first ever eyes-popping-out-incident in the entire world," he replied, with a straight face. She looked curious.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really," he answered. "But the point is, she came back from school that afternoon, with a grin all over her face, because school ain't a bad thing, you know. It's fun, she'd had other kids to play with, and cool teachers, and school is a good place to be. You need to learn lots before you can be a grown-up, and school is where you learn it."  
  
"Connor doesn't have to go to school," she reasoned. Gunn grinned.  
  
"That's cuz Connor gets up way too late to go to school. Angel would have to use garlic or somethin' to get him out of bed. And Connor's as moody as any other teenager when you wake him up. Believe me, every day? Not a good thing to do. Safer to keep him out of school."  
  
"But what about the learning?" Jane persisted, looking right into his eyes, trapping him in his little speech. "Connor can't learn how to be a grown- up."  
  
"Well," Gunn considered it, "Connor's special. He's not a normal little boy ,he's a big, different boy, and he's been away a lot, so he doesn't have to go to school. Plus, he's already learnt how to be a grown-up. "  
  
"Okay," she sighed, as if a world of prejudice had just lain itself on her shoulders, and he laughed.  
  
"C'mon munchkin, let's find Cordy."  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
"She's been with us two weeks," Angel argued. "Why should we send her to school so soon?"  
  
"She's eight years old! She needs to be in school, that's what eight year olds do!" Cordelia protested, then halted, as Gunn walked in, holding Jane's hand.  
  
"Heya sweetie. Ready to go to Saint Catherine's?"  
  
Silently, Jane gave the tiniest of nods. Deflated, Cordelia sighed.  
  
"Guess you're not talking today," she muttered. Some days, Jane was as normal a kid as the next, the others, she barely spoke, or was even silent. "There's a uniform upstairs. Mother Francesca asked me to get it for you before today, so you're ready to go. Go get dressed, and I'll put out some breakfast."  
  
Jane scampered away, as Cordelia raked her hands through her hair.  
  
"It needs to happen," she informed Angel. "She's not Connor. She needs to go to school."  
  
Angel growled something, but strode away, giving up the argument.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
The nun looked up, and smiled at the sweet sight. A small girl, about four foot high, was walking towards the school hand in hand with a tall, beautiful dark haired woman. The little one's blue and green kilt hung neatly to the tops of her long white socks, and the navy blue cardigan was fitted nicely over her white shirt. Her long fair hair was neatly braided into two, hanging either side of the small, expressive, pointed little face, where two brown eyes gazed out, as she got closer to the door.  
  
"Good morning," the nun greeted cheerfully. "My name is Sister Margaret. May I take your name?"  
  
"Hi, I'm Ms Chase, and this is Jane Ashborough, here to join grade four? I spoke to Mother Francesca on the phone," the woman explained.  
  
"Right this way, Ms Chase. We'll take Jane right off to her class, and show her around. If you wait here, Mother Francesca will be right with you," she directed, taking the little girl's hand. Strange, it was, that the little girl's name was different to that of her parent, or guardian. Possibly an aunt, Margaret mused, as she led Jane up the stairs to grade four.  
  
"Good morning, class," Sister Margaret said solemnly. Fifteen pairs of eyes looked towards her.  
  
"Good morning, Sister Margaret," they sing-songed back.  
  
"This is Jane, who's new to our school. I want a volunteer to be nice to her, show her around today, please," the nun asked. The Sister taking the class smiled.  
  
"Emily is a good student, and a nice, friendly little girl. Jane, if you go and sit beside Emily," she said gently. The brunette little girl, Emily, indicated the spare seat.  
  
"Right. Back to fractions. Who can tell me what 1/2 of twelve is?"  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Please, please, we have to be there soon," Jess groaned, sinking down in the booth of the small café.  
  
"I told you Jess, we'll get there soon. The hotel is in L.A. We're almost there. But you said you were hungry, remember? So I stopped, to use what little money we have, on feeding your stomach," Starr snapped.  
  
"Jess didn't mean it," Gabby said quietly. Starr sighed.  
  
"Guys, I'm just as tired, and worried, and hungry as you. I just.I need to think, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Faye echoed, softly. Starr smiled at her.  
  
"How you holding up, sweetie?" Jess and Gabby exchanged looks.  
  
"I'm okay," Faye replied.  
  
"Good. Right. Let's order!" Starr said, a cheerful note back in her voice.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"So, as it comes at you, block the main attack, but don't be too confident. Whatever's coming, he's not going to stop at the first attack. Be prepared," Angel instructed, swooping the sword in an arc towards her. Gleaming metal met metal, and a clang rang out as the two weapons clashed.  
  
"Good! Now, curve downwards, and-" he continued, and as he stepped back to counter the lunge, met her eyes, and gave an answering smile to the grin on her face.  
  
"Very good," he repeated, softly, putting down the sword. Cordelia hung her own on the rack, and untied her hair, with a sigh of release. She shook out her shoulders loosely.  
  
"I knew those things were heavy, but why'd we have to move so slow?" she complained. She gave a smirk. "I could kick your butt if I could move fast." He smiled.  
  
"But the challenge is in the control."  
She raised an eyebrow.  
  
"As far as I'm concerned, control sucks."  
"All done with the slow motion fighting?" Gunn asked, as they made their way up from the basement.  
  
"Yep. Angel is determined to hook me on that Tai chi stuff," Cordy replied, with a grimace. "Me, I'm sticking with Tai tea." She slid a look at the vampire currently buttoning up his black shirt.  
  
Mind you, it does have a few..fringe benefits. Like how he fights with his shirt off..  
Gunn smiled. "You and me both. Me, I like some action. We've been down a lot since the last vision."  
  
"If you're asking for another one, please don't," the ex-cheerleader said, with a cocked eyebrow. "Believe me, life going slow is far better than the soap opera life has been like for the past year. And not in a good, me- starring-opposite-Matt-le-Blanc-way, either."  
  
The 'phone ringing made the three jump.  
  
"You were saying?" Angel asked, with a small smile.  
  
Fred came out of the office, rolled her eyes, and picked up the phone.  
  
"Angel investigations." She listened a moment, then obviously repeated something, so they could understand the conversation.  
  
"Kellagh demons? In the basement? How do you know they're Kellagh?" A moment passed, then faintly, with a sickened expression, "Ew. No, I understand, Mrs Daniels. Okay. We'll get rid of them. I'll get hold of some of our team, and send 'em right over. Goodbye!"  
  
She turned to the crew.  
  
"Mrs Daniels, remember, the tiny scratching sound we said was mice? Turns out they're Kellagh demons. Don't ask. They're definitely Kellagh," Fred mumbled, as she walked away, still looking pale.  
  
Cordelia looked at Angel, who shrugged.  
  
"Guess we have a case," he stated.  
  
"Vision free and all," Cordelia added.  
  
"So, who gets to kill stuff?" Gunn asked brightly.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"You have the object?" she demanded. He handed it over. She smirked.  
  
"Good. Nice to know there are still some honest people in the world," she said, with heavy irony.  
  
"Nice to do business with you," he answered, bowing slightly, before disappearing. Quickly, she ripped off the paper, to reveal a large, cloudy globe. She turned, holding it tightly, and strode off quickly.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
'Connor,  
  
We've gone off to sort out a problem with a client. Don't know when we're back. If you can please pick Jane up from school, then hang around back at the hotel, we'll be home as soon as possible, but supposedly, these demon-y things are big bads in the fighting department. Would have woken you.but you were out. See you later,  
  
Cordy'  
  
The teenager pulled the note off the fridge, and studied it a second, before crumpling it, and tossing it into the trash.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
Jane sat on the corner of the steps, hugging her knees, her chin resting on top of her folded arms as she waited patiently. Cordy had promised she'd come and pick her up at exactly four. It was now, according to the big clock on the front of the school, half past four, and she was getting bored.  
  
"Hey," a voice muttered. She looked up.  
  
"Connor?"  
  
"Yeah. Let's go."  
  
He looked around, the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to prickle. Small senses sparking that something was following them.  
  
"Jane?" he looked down. Trustingly, the child met his eyes.  
  
"Connor?"  
  
He glanced back a moment. They were about fifteen minutes from the hotel, and five from Caritas, two when running. Something non-vampiric was definitely behind them, and Cordelia would *kill* him if anything happened to Jane.  
  
Without another thought, he hustled the small girl towards the demon bar, hoping to God it was shut until the evening, and he could get hold of Lorne.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"What in the name of Shelly Basset..?" Lorne demanded, as Connor tugged the little girl down the steps into the club.  
  
"Demon. Following us. The hotel is too far away," Connor explained. He cast a quick look around. A few demons were scattered around the room, playing cards, smoking, and flipping through the music cds, in preparation for that evening. He shrugged.  
  
"I've got to go, Lorne. Keep an eye on her."  
  
"But." Lorne tried, as Connor sped up the stairs, and out. He glanced at the girl fearfully. She squirmed.  
  
"Excuse me, but do you have a bathroom?"  
  
'Of course," he replied, dazedly, as he led her towards the little Supremes room. A little less on the 'girls' room. Some of his customers were definitely not 'girls', in any sense.  
  
"Can you pass me the green crayon?" Lorne handed it over, sipping his drink.  
  
"What're you drawing, munchkin?" he asked. She lifted it up, showing a nice big picture of a house, and a little girl outside with two stick figure people either side.  
  
"That's me, and that's the hotel, and that's Angel, and that's Cordy," she pointed. He looked, amused.  
  
"Where's me?" he asked, swirling the drink in his left hand.  
  
"That's why I needed the green crayon," she explained. He looked at her, bemused. It was very strange. No consternation at all at the demonic side of him, the very obvious demon side of him.  
  
"Aww, shit! That's cheating!" a Chriago demon in the corner complained loudly. Lorne was as surprised as any of the others when Jane stood up, and turned around to order imperiously that he not cuss. As she sat down with a bump, he caught sight of Cordelia and Angel, in the doorway.  
  
"Ah. Cavalry has arrived," he said, crossing to them.  
A/N:  
  
REVIEW! 


	4. Developments

A/N: And once again, a round of applause to Jen for Beta-ing this. Large chunks of it has disappeared, you may notice, Jen, and it's all for you. *grumbles*. It made sense in *my* world. And to all those of you not tuned into the insanity channel, hey, you're getting there! Right, a few notes of explanation, cuz I only realised this *after* the writing of fic, and I have dance class, and my teacher is gonna be sooooo pissed if my hair isn't scraped back, which leaves me less time to write. Don't ask me why I don't post after class. My mind don't work like that. Anyhoo, they have returned to the hotel. Assume that Angel and Cordelia got back, Lorne had brought Jane back there. It's not important, people!  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
The lights in the hotel were dark, and as the door swung open, Connor was careful not to let it bang behind him. He moved towards the stairs-  
  
"Connor, come back down now." Angel's low voice carried a threat to it.  
  
At his father's words, the boy backed back into the room. The lights snapped on. Angel's eyes fixed on his son's blue orbs.  
  
"What have you done to yourself?" Cordy gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. The bruises forming across Connor's face, and the blood there made her feel nauseous. Angel normally did the whole, vamp-super-healing thing before he got this gross.  
  
"A few demons didn't like me killing their friend," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging. "I got hit."  
  
"And if you'd been in the hotel, with Jane as asked, you wouldn't be out, getting hit," Angel stated, his jaw stony.  
  
Connor folded his arms.  
  
"I don't have to explain myself to you," he spat defensively.  
  
"No. I agree. You're an adult, right Connor?" the agreeable tone of Angel's voice was off with his movements. He stood, body and shoulders set, and his own arms folded. "An adult. Old enough to know what he's doing, what he can accomplish, whether or not he's getting himself killed, or just going into a risky situation, right, Connor?" Connor shifted on the spot uneasily. Angel moved forward.  
  
"An adult is supposed to be responsible. So how come Jane was with Lorne? She's a little kid, her parents are dead, and as far as we knew, she was completely normal. So how come you left her in a demon bar, with only Lorne as protection?" he growled.  
  
"And a hey from the green demon!" Lorne protested, from the couch. Angel glanced at him, and then back to Connor.  
  
"My parents are dead. *I* can take care of myself," Connor muttered.  
  
A muscle jumped in Angel's jaw. He unfolded, and refolded his arms.  
  
"Yes. And you are seventeen years old. There's a difference."  
  
"Technically he's only two years old," Fred added, then covered her mouth with her hand. "Sorry."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Jane shivered, and covered her ears with her hands. Why was Connor all growly to Angel? It made her stomach hurt. It was all her fault. Aunt Es had always said that she made things bad.  
  
Maybe if I go away again, then they'll be better. But then *they* would find me.  
  
She hugged herself tightly, curling tighter into a ball on the step, and one hand crept up to clutch the tag on the chain, zipping it back and forth, restlessly. Zip. Zip. Zip.  
  
Roughly, Connor shoved past her, running up the stairs. She pulled her knees up higher, and bent her head over them, resting her chin.  
  
"Hey sweet cheeks," Lorne said, slipping an arm around the girl's shoulders. She looked up at him miserably, her pale hair falling either side of her tear stained little face.  
  
"Everyone's pretty mad, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, they are. You see, most people don't know about people like me.Jane, do you know what I am?" he looked at her curiously.  
  
She dropped her eyes back to her knees, and moved the tag back and forth once again.  
  
"Jane?" he probed gently.  
  
"You're a demon," she answered finally, her voice muffled by her hands. "Like Uncle Rory, and Aunt Patricia. Daddy said that I wasn't s'posed to stay in the room with them, though, 'cause he said their 'tentions might slip. Would your 'tentions slip, Lorne?" she asked.  
  
He chuckled. "No sweetness. They wouldn't. How'd your Daddy know they were demons?"  
  
"'Cause he was one," Jane answered. "A nice one. Mommy always said he was the best demon in the whole wide world, and the best Daddy too."  
  
" How's about we get you ready for bed, Jane?" he offered, holding out a green hand.  
  
"Okay," she replied, taking it, and picking herself up. "But I get a story."  
  
"Once upon a time, there was a wonderful demon named Lauren of the Deathwok clan.."  
  
She wrinkled her nose.  
  
"Is that you, Lorne?" she asked. He shrugged.  
  
"It might be. Now this demon had impeccable taste in style, music, and cheekbones like marble.."  
  
~  
  
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"Honey?" Cordelia swung open the door. Jane looked up, from a big book propped up on the quilt. A soft blue lamp was sitting beside her, and her uniform was folded over the back of a chair.  
  
"What's that?" she asked, curious. Jane lifted it up.  
  
"Fred gave it to me. It's about a princess, in a big tower, who everyone loved, but they can't remember her, 'cause she's been away so long. And a Prince called Florizel is gonna go save her," Jane answered eagerly. "It's a good book."  
  
Cordelia smiled, and sat down on the end of the bed.  
  
"That was a book she used to read when she came back from Pylea, where Lorne used to live."  
  
"Nuh uh," Jane shook her head firmly. "Lauren of the Deathwok clan lived in Pylea. He was a wonderful magic demon, who could sing, and make people feel better. He helped Fred get away from the evil people, all on his own!"  
  
"Hmm," Cordelia muttered. "Not the way *I* heard it. " Jane looked at her questioningly.  
  
"But that's okay. Fred was really, really shy when she came back, and she used to read the book over and over imagining Ang..Lauren was her Prince Florizel, because he saved her," she told Jane.  
  
Jane gave a small smile.  
  
"'Night 'night. "  
  
"G'night," Jane yawned sleepily, as Cordy switched out the light.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
"We're nearly there," Starr informed them, shifting the backpack uncomfortably from one shoulder to the other with a sigh. "Another coupla miles, and we'll be there. We'd best crash for the night."  
  
Jess tugged on Gabby's arm, the smaller blonde meekly following, tired.  
  
"C'mon, we can go to sleep soon," she encouraged, her blue eyes still bright. Gabby yawned, setting Faye off. The younger girl yawned so hugely that the sketchpad tucked under one arm crumpled slightly.  
  
"Sleep is good," she mumbled. Starr grinned slightly, swiping at an unruly lock of black hair.  
  
"Yeah. It is. But where we're headed, there's a hotel."  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
Cordy sat up in bed, fighting for breath. Blurred images of a person, their face cloaked, laughter, smoke, a smell.incense, a feeling of tightness, a stabbing pain in her throat- her hands grabbed at her neck, fumbling for an invisible attacker, trying to loosen the grip of the vision. But there was no attacker, no place, no actual visual of a person they could save, then, as someone turned, blackness.  
  
"Cordy? Cordy!" Angel was shaking her shoulders, his face grim. She blinked, and sighed, dropping back onto the pillows.  
  
"Vision. Strong one."  
  
He stroked her face tenderly. The visions had lightened since Cordy's half demon side had been put in place, but this one was as strong as the visions she had gone through on her birthday.  
  
"Can we help? Where is it?" She shook her head mutely.  
  
"No. No place, no person. Just a vision. And pain." She held him tightly, taking comfort in his presence. He enclosed her, wrapping the quilt around her more warmly.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Jane lay back in the bed, shivering slightly. The stabbing pain in her head, and her neck had gone, but the remembrance of it made her ache. She turned over, huddling under the quilt, snuffled a couple of times, and dropped back into dreamless sleep.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"So, we're deciding what exactly? That since Jane didn't go, ooh creepy demon, when she saw Lorne, we're going to allow her to see us kill things? And allow her out to kill things *with* us?" Cordelia demanded. Angel winced.  
  
"Cor, your voice has risen by about two octaves in pitch."  
  
"Well, I'm so sorry, Mister let's expose eight year olds to huge, deathly danger!" she snapped.  
  
"Cordelia! Calm down! We're not advocating Jane being exposed to stuff that would scare her, just that, we no longer have to watch whatever we say, Lorne can be around without worry, that kind of thing," he replied. She moved to the sink, clattering the frying pan there.  
  
"Is it too much to ask that she possibly have a normal life for a tiny bit?" she pleaded. He frowned.  
  
"Cordelia, this girl appeared in a vision. The last vision you had since then you didn't get anything from. Then, she walks into a demon bar, and tells a 200-pound chirago demon to stop cussing. I fail to see how normal her life can be!"  
  
"Fine. But if she gets hurt, you're going down to the E.R," she warned. She looked over to where the little girl was eating cereal happily at the table. Connor had seated himself nearby, and was forking up eggs, and fried bacon. She turned back to the dishes, but sudden laughter made her turn.  
  
"Connor!" she rebuked the teenager, who was helpless with laughter, as he urged on Jane's blowing bubbles in the milk, so much so that it overflowed onto the table. Jane looked up at her, doe eyed.  
  
"Cordy? Can I go play with Fred now?" she requested politely, a little milk moustache gracing her upper lip. Cordelia fought the urge to grin.  
  
"Little horror! Fine, you can go, just put your bowl in the sink please, and-" she took a napkin, and wiped off the aftermath of the milk. "Now you can go, munchkin."  
  
Jane skipped away, and Connor went back to eating in silence. Cordelia looked at Angel.  
  
"I'm serious. You're the one in the E.R."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Gunn looked up from polishing the axe, to meet two big brown eyes.  
  
"What's up, Pippi?" he asked, rubbing it. She frowned, creasing her forehead.  
  
"I'm Jane," she stated, folding her arms. A small grin appeared on Gunn's face.  
  
"Yeah, I know. I was talking about the hairstyle." He picked up one of the braids.  
  
"It's a braid, not a pippi, Gunn," she sighed, sounding ten years older. He laughed then.  
  
"Guess it's not," he agreed. Silence fell again, as he rubbed the axe again, concentrating on shining the blade.  
  
"What're you doing?" He looked up again.  
  
"Bad, naughty things," he replied awkwardly to her, in an attempt to get her to go away. He didn't know what to do with kids. He'd never been around many of them, and Alanna had been fourteen when they were completely alone. Her eyes lit up.  
  
"Can I play?"  
  
He groaned inwardly.  
  
"No. It's a grown-ups' game."  
  
She stuck out her bottom lip.  
  
"Please?"  
  
"You know I'll have to cut that off," he told her. When could a guy get time alone with his axe? He needed the time, and the axe definitely needed polishing. It wasn't as shiny any more. Didn't give him that little tingle when he picked it up.  
  
"O-kay," she sighed, walking away.  
  
* ~ * ~ * `  
  
"Right. We are *not* going to scare the nice people. We're going to go in, find who we're looking for, and do what they say. Understand?" Starr demanded, hefting the backpack over her shoulders. Gabby and Faye nodded silently. Jess met her eyes, and folded her arms.  
  
"No," she pronounced. Starr bit back a sharp reply.  
  
"What's wrong now?" she asked, tiredly.  
  
"I don't see why we have to be pulled out of our homes, just 'cause our Watchers got blown up in England, and haul ass across the country, so we can go see the Watcher who has control of the Slayer. It's completely pointless. He's not the only Watcher alive," Jess argued. She glared at Starr. "Just 'cause your dumb brother thinks this guy is God's gift to slaying. What does Sullivan know about it? He's not even a girl!"  
  
Starr's lips twitched at that, but she drew in a deep breath. Jessamy had been pushing the limits every day.  
  
"Jessamy, we are here because both Sullivan, and our Watchers thought he was the best person to come to. We were under the Council's training, so we obey what is left of the Council, without getting into serious stuff. Sully *is* a Council operative, but only a minor one, so he couldn't have taken control. You know what Travers was like. I wanted to stop that happening. The only person who has ever had a Slayer with something close to a normal life is this one. A Slayer, Jess. You're a Potential, so the claims on you should be even less. This is the one perfect person to come to, and we're going to stay, and talk to him, find out what we should do, if we should go home."  
  
"We were home," Jess replied defensively.  
  
"No, Jess. We were in England. We're American. All four of us. Five, including Sully. We lived in England for the past four years. I've been there a longer time, but America is home, and I still have a family, somewhere. As soon as I can, I'm ditching the Slayer wannabe gig, and catching the first ride going home. This is the best possible person to say we can," Starr pleaded, her eyes big with hope. "I don't want to die, neither should you. That's why we've crossed the ocean, to get here, and to him. Because this is the only place we can find freedom."  
  
After this impassioned diatribe, Jess opened her mouth to speak, but fell silent, still frowning mutinously, but quietly. Starr glanced around with relief.  
  
"Right. Has anyone else got any problems?" She strode through the front entrance, letting the glass door swing open behind her, admitting the three girls.  
  
A black guy was polishing a large weapon, a thin brunette was drifting into the room, clutching a thick tome, muttering under her breath, a bright green skinned demon, with small red horns, and a loud orange suit was reading a story book with a little girl curled up beside him on a couch, a tall broody-looking man was propped up against a wall, sipping a glass of something dark red, listening to the brunette, and an unshaven man, dressed in a leather jacket was talking quickly to another brunette in distinctly British tones.  
  
"Wrong person," Starr announced hopelessly, turning, and walking straight out, attracting the attention of everyone in the room.  
  
"Hey! Come back!" Angel called. He moved quickly to the doorway. "Who are you?"  
  
The tall woman turned. She was younger than Cordelia, or Fred, in her late teens. Short black locks curled around her neck, and she had large grey eyes, with a look of irritation, and great tiredness. She shifted the bag on her back.  
  
"I'm in the wrong place," she informed him. "I'm looking for Wesley Wyndham Pryce. And this place." she looked around, and lifted an eyebrow. "Well, considering there's a demon over there, I doubt a Watcher of the Council would be here. "  
  
"Actually," Wesley stepped forward. "I am Mr Wyndham Pryce. What is your connection with the Council?"  
  
"Wesley?" Starr's brow furrowed. "Wesley? That you?"  
  
"I don't believe we've been acquainted," Wesley replied, with a frown.  
  
"No," Starr agreed. "You know my brother, Sullivan. Sullivan Reynolds. And I'm Starr." She ushered the three girls back into the room. "And these are Potentials. Meet Jessamy Kendall, Gabriella Hart, and Faye Robins. We've been headed here from a long way away. Sully told me that you were the Watcher of the Slayer, the true Slayer. He said you were collecting Potentials. I thought, you were the only one whose Slayer has survived past her 20th birthday, it would be the perfect place for Gabby, Jess and Faye." She gave him a pleading look. The black man coughed.  
  
"Yeah, it would," he smiled, walking forward. The smile disappeared. "Unfortunately, you *have* got the wrong place. See, the *real* Slayer, the one that's not doing time cuz she killed someone, is over in Sunnydale. With a guy named Giles. Wes here is just the screw up. Fired. And last I heard, he was a rogue demon hunter, in badly fittin' leather pants." He gave the other man a sizing up look. "Who tries to mack on other guy's girls."  
  
"Charles!" the brunette with the book snapped. Starr held up a hand.  
  
"Whoa. Dizzy. Hold up. What do you mean, wrong person?"  
  
Wesley glared at Gunn, but turned, and shrugged.  
  
"I'm afraid, that in part, he is correct. I am a Watcher of the Slayer, but Faith is at present doing penance at the state prison. Mr Rupert Giles, of Sunnydale, is Watcher to Buffy Summers, the elder Slayer I believe you're referring to. I had heard of the Council's ending, and I can put through a call to Giles to get you there, with the other Potentials. Meanwhile, this is a hotel, and Angel, who owns it would possibly let you stay here."  
  
The brunette stood beside the dark-clad man poked him sharply in the ribs.  
  
The vampire stepped forward. "If you want to stay, there are plenty of rooms."  
  
"Thanks," Starr replied gratefully. "It's only eight thirty, but we've been moving since ten this morning. No breaks. Where can I get the girls settled?"  
  
The more rounded brunette stepped forward now, the vampire still rubbing where she had poked him before.  
  
"Hi, I'm Cordelia," she smiled warmly. "You obviously know Wes, tall dark and broody is Angel, Gunn's the one with the axe, and that's Fred. Lorne is over there, with Jane. I'll show you where you guys can crash."  
  
"Starr? I don't think I can remember that many names," Faye whispered. Cordelia smile broadened.  
  
"It's okay. The important name is Cordelia," she informed the girl. "Right, upstairs."  
  
As she led the four along a corridor, she pointed to various doors.  
  
"Angel and I, Jane, Fred, Gunn, and then, up there," she pointed up a darker staircase, that was fairly narrow, 'Is Connor. Angel's son. He's out at the moment, patrolling. So, if we put...what's your name sweetie?" she pointed to Gabby.  
  
"Gabby," the small blonde mumbled, in a tiny voice. Her moss green eyes were looking at the floor, and her wispy bangs fell across her face. Cordelia opened the door. Two twin beds, with a wardrobe, dresser, and mirror.  
  
"If you go in here, with-"  
  
"Jess," Jessamy cut in, throwing her bag onto the bed. She turned to face Cordelia, her thick red hair flying around her shoulders. She lifted her chin, her blue eyes meeting Cordelia's defiantly. "Gabby and I stay together."  
  
"Okay," Cordy nodded. "Suits me. Now, you are?"  
  
"Faye," Starr supplied. Faye clung to Starr's side. Her braid of light brown hair was mussed, and she was blinking rapidly behind her glasses in an attempt to stay awake, but she gripped tightly onto Starr's hand.  
  
"If you go in here, Starr can go next door. See. There's a connecting door," Cordelia pointed out. "Bathrooms join onto every room, so you can all shower, or whatever. Angel will probably sort out dinner. See us downstairs in ten," she instructed, and walked off.  
  
"See? Everything's fine," Starr reassured Faye. "They'll just call Mr Giles, and we'll catch the next bus to Sunnydale. No problem."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Hello? Giles?  
  
Yes, I do realise it's been a while. And yes, that you're very busy.  
  
Ohhh, end of the world? No, I hadn't noticed, everything is *perfectly* normal in L.A. No demons, no vampires, everyone skipping about eating fruit cake. Of *course* it's an end of the world. There's one every year! Last year, it was Willow!  
  
Yes, I do know I'm being sarcastic.  
  
No, there was a reason for calling. I have four Potentials here. They assumed I was you.  
  
What? Houseful? But surely four of them..  
  
Yes, I know Angel lives in a hotel. But he is a vampire. They are Slayers.  
  
Spike is still around? For God's sake, Rupert! Why haven't you staked that useless vampire yet?  
  
He won't like it, Giles.  
  
Fine. They can stay. But as soon as you have room for them.."  
  
The receiver dropped into its cradle with a loud click. Angel handed him a glass.  
  
"Thank you," he said, absently, sipping it. "There's a problem. It appears we have gained four Potential slayers."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
A/N: Right. That's 3571 words here. I wrote 3571 words in one chapter. You can spare me fifteen, can't you? Cuz stories such as this get boring very quickly if no one wants to read them.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ` 


	5. Visions

A/N: Okay, we're diving into a fluffier chapter, and then a coupla surprises. I dunno about you guys, but Jess looks fairly volatile atm. And I love to play...mwahahahahahaha! *coughs* Yes. Um. Where were we?  
  
(afterwards) Well..That didn't go to plan. At all. There's fluff, in there. Just not in the dosage. And it doesn't help that I'm seeing images of the end of the fic..  
  
Anyway.  
  
Yeah, thanks y'all for reviewing, and whatever. Now, please, the World's End awards, at need votes for the awards there. So please, go support your favourite authors, and stories.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
Connor stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, yawning. He stopped.  
  
A redheaded girl was fighting with a teenager about his own age for possession of the last of the Captain Crunch. A dark haired girl was avidly sketching the conflict. Another girl, a blonde, was spooning up cereal, and Jane was watching them all, giggling.  
  
"Huh?" he mumbled, staring. The redhead turned, and flipped her hair behind her shoulders.  
  
"Aww, not yet awake? Sorry to tell ya, we're not a bad dream. We're here to stay, apparently," she directed a glare at the black haired teen, and yanked on the box.  
  
"You're Connor, right?" the older girl questioned, straightening up. Unlike the others, still in varying pyjamas, she was dressed, in jeans and a tee shirt, and her short curly hair was brushed neatly. "Hi. I'm Starr Reynolds."  
  
"Jane, why are there so many girls here?" he whispered to the little girl. She looked at him complacently.  
  
"Silly. There aren't *many*. That's Starr, and that's Gabby, and that's Faye, and that one is Jess," she pointed.  
  
"Huh," he nodded, still bewildered. He turned, and walked back out the door. Starr watched him go, and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Well. *That* was rude."  
  
"What do you expect?" Jess said, through a mouthful of the stolen cereal. "Looking like that, d'you expect him to know much about girls?"  
  
"Jess!" Starr exclaimed. Jess shrugged.  
  
"S'true, isn't it?"  
  
"Good morning, my little smorgasbord of goodies!" the bright green-skinned demon sang out cheerfully, as he moved quickly toward the coffee pot. "I hear you're staying at Casa Angel for a few."  
  
Starr gave Jess a warning glance then turned to answer him.  
  
"Yeah, we are," she replied, a little uneasily. He might be a 'friend' according to Wesley, but she wasn't so sure what she'd been taught to kill was a friend of hers.  
  
"Sweetie, I'm not a fightin' big on child eating demon," he told her patiently. "You couldn't get a demon more likely to sing Ella than fight. Really. Get knocked out, all the time. "  
  
"Ella?" Gabby queried. He beamed.  
  
"Queen of the genre, honeypie. Ella Fitzgerald."  
  
"Riiight," Jess said sceptically, with a raised eyebrow and exchanging a look with Gabby.  
  
"So, as far as I hear it, you're all doing some kind of training with Connor and Angel today," Lorne went on.  
  
"What? That skinny little-"Jess muttered, cut off by Jane's excited,  
  
"What? Me too, Lorne?" The demon smiled at her.  
  
"Sorry darlin'. You're school-bound." The grin faded, and Jane hopped off the chair, and plodded away, disappearing from the kitchen.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
She cinched the belt tighter around her waist, hooking it onto the rope, quickly and efficiently checking the clasp. Divesting herself of additional material, she shook out her shoulders, and released the catch.  
  
She dropped like a stone towards the polished, hard, black marble floor, and caught. Hanging a bare two feet above the floor, she undid the harness, and dropped onto her feet in the centre of the empty hall. Looking around, she flipped her long braid behind her shoulders, and strode towards the door.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
"So, what do we do? I think I speak for all of us, when I say, huh?" Jess said confidently, glancing at the basement, and folding her arms.  
  
The large, stuffed doll looked sadly back at her. Someone, with the best of intentions, obviously, had drawn on a smiley, lopsided face. Someone *else* had added a pair of plastic fangs, and red 'blood'. The overall effect was..well. Pathetic.  
  
"It's a vampire," Angel stated, folding his own arms. "You practise killing it."  
  
Jess raised an eyebrow. "And this is supposed to be training, how? I gave up playing with dolls a long time ago."  
  
"That's the point," Starr muttered. Angel met Jess's eyes.  
  
"You will practise fighting it. Or," he shrugged. "You could practise fighting Gunn. But the dummy is less likely to fight back."  
  
"I pick the black guy," she answered, with a disbelieving tone in her voice. "Angel, maybe you don't get this scenario. We're Potential Slayers," she spelled out slowly. "Big on the demon fighting." She drew herself up, and put her hands on her hips. "The council already intro'd us on the beginnings. There's no way that is gonna do anything but kill time. Slowly, and painfully. So please, skip the baby talk."  
  
Angel exchanged a glance with Starr who shrugged.  
  
"Told you," she mumbled.  
  
"Fine. Gunn?" he called. The man's head appeared around the door.  
  
"You rang, Lurch?" he said, flashing a grin at the bemused vampire.  
  
"Lurch was the Addams' family's butler," Gabby informed him, giggling. Angel scowled.  
  
"Right. Come down, and let these girls attack you."  
  
"How is that a good thing?" Gunn demanded. "If these are mini-Faiths...I don't wanna be here."  
  
"Because the girls need a few things demonstrated," Angel replied. Gunn shrugged.  
  
"Hey if they get hurt."  
  
Three small bodies launched themselves at the black man, Jess with a loud war cry, Gabby echoing it. Easily, and quickly, Gunn shook them off, picking Jess up by the collar of her shirt, which made the girl furious.  
  
"Put me DOWN!" she yelled. Gunn smirked.  
  
"I doubt a vampire would listen to a 12 year old," he told her.  
  
"I'm THIRTEEN!"  
  
"Angel, am I done here now?" Gunn asked the vampire. He swung the girl dangling from his fist a little. "I mean, it's hardly a threat anymore."  
  
"I don't know," Angel answered, refolding his arms. He looked directly into Jess's angry eyes. "Has she learnt the lesson?"  
  
"Put. Me. Down," she ground out.  
  
"I asked a question," he growled.  
  
"Fine," she snapped back. "Learnt and all." To get revenge, and to make it *hurt*, she added, silently. Maybe dousing his sheets in holy water.?  
  
"Put her down," Angel shrugged. Jess dropped painfully onto her side, and winced, biting her lip. She managed to stand up though, and glare at the black man.  
  
"For someone a lot bigger than me, you seem to get your rocks off by hurting me," she accused. He grinned.  
  
"Hey! You wanted to fight me, I just won," he lifted his shoulders. He rolled his eyes toward Angel, clearly bored. "So can I get back to real work?"  
  
"Sure," Angel answered easily. "Just, one question? Who put the fangs and blood on the dummy?"  
  
Gunn turn to see it, and smiled. "Fred," he answered, by way of an explanation. Angel's lips twitched into a small smile.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
She pressed one hand to the panel, and watched in satisfaction as it slid upwards smoothly, notching into place, revealing the inner wall.  
  
"Rich people and metal security systems," she muttered, slipping one hand through into the vault, and extracting the prize. A yowling alarm blared, and she ran full pelt for the harness hanging still in mid air, as security guards raced around the corner.  
  
"Going up," she whispered, as she glided upwards, even taking time to smile sweetly at the guards, and wave mockingly, the goal clutched in one gloved hand.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Um, Cordelia? Do you mind if I leave the girls here for the afternoon?" Starr requested, fiddling with the collar of her shirt, uneasily. "I want to get a couple of things, and, well, see L.A."  
  
The brunette smiled at her. "Sure, it's okay, Starr. I'm sure the girls need stuff, so I'll take them mall-wise this afternoon. Guys, you happy with that?" she turned to the group of hot, sweaty girls clustered in the foyer. Gabby nodded. Jess held up a hand.  
  
"I could use a new sketchpad," Faye spoke up, shyly. Cordelia looked at the girl, a soft look in her brown eyes.  
  
"You like drawing?" she asked. Faye nodded.  
  
"Mr Travers used to let the Watchers teach me. I used to illustrate some of the books," she mumbled. Cordelia's smile became rather fixed. What the skanky, nasty fat little man had told these children to do, she would really rather was not mentioned.  
  
"Well I'm sure we can find you some better subject matter," she laughed. Faye held out the sketchpad tucked under her arm.  
  
"I drew this," she answered. The page was turned towards Cordelia, and she looked down at it.  
  
It was a sketch of Lorne, sat next to Jane. The little girl was in her pyjamas, her feet curled under her, and her hair in a wispy braid, soft tendrils of hair falling across her face, as she looked up at the demon. Lorne was leant against the chair's back, an arm around Jane's shoulders, and his mouth open in a song. His eyes were warm, and soft as he looked at the child, and the sketch was well drawn, in such a way as to appear life like.  
  
"This is.,...beautiful, Faye," Cordelia said softly, gazing at the sketch again.  
  
"You can keep it," the girl mumbled, and stepped back. Starr smiled at her. Jess curled a lip in a look of disgust.  
  
"Stupid fat little baby," she muttered under her breath to Gabby. Meekly, the younger girl nodded.  
  
"Sucking up to Cordelia. No doubt she prefers hanging around with demons to going to the home of the *real* Slayer," Jess continued, a sneering toe in her voice.  
  
"But there is a Slayer here," Gabby said, confused, meeting Jess's eyes. Jess scowled.  
  
"Oh yeah. Real Slayer. Locked behind bars, 'cuz she kills people," she scoffed. Gabby bowed her head.  
  
"Guys? You want to go get ready?" Cordelia asked. Jess cast a last glare at Faye, and marched away, followed by Gabby.  
  
"Okay, well, I'm gonna head on ou-" Starr stopped, in horror, as Cordelia crumpled to the floor, her head clutched in her hands.  
  
"Cordelia! Cordelia! Are you okay?" she asked wildly. Sparking pain behind her eyes made her sink onto the ground beside her, on her knees, holding her forehead.  
  
Images flashed past. Blood, so much blood. Hands coated in it, bathed in it, scattering drops of the crimson liquid in the air. A symbol, carved into wood, burning. And then, a voice, high, and piercing, distorted. "Three, THREE!" it screamed, and then a face, but masked in darkness. Starr's head slipped down onto the floor, as she and Cordelia lay side by side, sprawled in unconsciousness.  
  
Alone, the little girl leant her head against the side of the stalls, as she shivered with the pain. At the sights flashing across her eyes, she vomited, crying bitterly, as she dropped into darkness.  
  
In a tall office block, the dark haired young man went unnoticed, as he put a hand to his temple, as he fell forwards, almost in slow motion, in the small waiting room.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 


	6. Trip to the mall

"Cordelia!" Angel's voice was hoarse as he shook his lover's shoulders. She was sprawled across the lobby floor, Starr beside her, passed out in the same position.  
  
He gripped her hand tightly. Cordelia's eyelids flickered.  
  
"Angel? Still sleepy, go fetch coffeeee..?" she mumbled. He smiled with relief, and helped her to sit up.  
  
"What happened to you?" he asked quietly, as she put her hand to her temples, hissing in a breath.  
  
"I don't.remember," she replied, her brows furrowing, as she tried to recall what had happened. Her eyes widened as she caught the end of the vision, and she swallowed visibly.  
  
"I do." Starr pushed back her black curls with her hands, a grim look on her face. "I just don't know why."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
"Mr Holden? Mr Holden?" Dimly, he recalled the name he was using in the building was Holden, and pulled himself up on the corner of the table. He raised a hand over the side of the cubicle.  
  
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he muttered. He sucked in a breath as he felt a sore spot on his head, where he'd hit it on the side of the desk. The slim woman, clad in a brown suit, appeared around the side of the three walled space.  
  
"Mr Holden, Mr Jacobs will see you now."  
  
*Mr Holden* followed her, obediently, the residue of the vision still pounding in his brain. He had to get to Starr.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Okay, what in Britney Spears' comeback tour is going on?" the green skinned demon demanded. "For some reason, I'm blocked from ya, doll. And a word to the wise, sugar lump? Your voice suits the stellar style of Eva Cassidy, Joni Mitchell, anythin' but Gloria Gaynor." Starr nodded dumbly.  
  
"Britney Spears' comeback tour?" Jess repeated, her arms folded, with a questioning look. He gave a quick, wicked grin.  
  
" It would be hell," he supplied. Faye gave a tiny snort of laughter, which she quickly repressed when Jess glared at her.  
  
"Thanks..I think. Britney aside, and whoever the hell Joni Mitchell-"  
  
"Blasphemy!" Lorne exclaimed, flapping a hand at her. "Bite your tongue!" Starr looked up at him pleadingly.  
  
"Okay, okay. Song people aside, am I to understand that I sang for no reason whatsoever, but to make the great thumping migraine worse?" Lorne shot her a pitying look.  
  
"'Fraid so, sweetheart. There's a whoopdidoo of blockage on ya, and that's the kind of whammy I can't break through."  
  
"Uh, people? I hate to break up the lovely discussion of readings, blood, and my ever-present favorite, how much gore was in my last vision, but someone has to go pick Jane up from school. And the Potentials, they need..stuff," Cordy gestured vaguely.  
  
"Right. It's three thirty.we should go. Uh, Fred? If you go get Jane, and Gunn, you and Wes take Potentials, they were gonna go to the mall, I'm going to research this. Cordy, do you want to head upstairs?" The tired Seer nodded.  
  
"I'm gonna go up, too," Starr put in softly. Angel whipped around.  
  
"Oh. Uh, yeah. Good." Uneasily, he looked from female to female, then strode quickly into the office.  
  
* ~ * ` * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"What do you mean, worthless? That *can't* be worthless." The slim young woman balled her hands into fists. "I went into a lot of trouble for that thing, AND I. WANT. MY. MONEY!"  
  
"I'm deeply apologetic, Ms.. .What did you say your name was? Never-mind," he waved it aside. "As I said, we're apologetic, but the merchandise requested has not arrived in order. Therefore, no payment."  
  
She sounded more desperate. "There has *got* to be a mistake. I put my life on the line for that thing. Do it every night. And I always deliver. Always get paid."  
  
"Well, there's always a first time," he smiled insincerely. He pressed a button on the intercom. "Ms Westley? Ask the guards to escort Ms.the lady out."  
  
She leaned forward.  
  
"It's Gwen." She yanked off a glove, and touched the tip of her finger to his cheek. A live electric charge ran through him, as she coolly watched.  
  
"Yes, there is a first time for everything," she whispered. "But it pisses me off."  
  
She sashayed past the guards, swinging her hips as she walked, tossing her head at their dumbfounded looks, as she tugged the long, black silk glove back on. They didn't notice the opened package in her hand, as they scrambled toward the desk, and Mr Jacobs.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"So..." Wesley's face was set determinedly. "The biggest challenge we have yet to face."  
  
"Come off it, English! They're teenage girls!" Gunn protested laughingly. Wesley turned to face him, folding his arms against his crisp red shirt front.  
  
"Have you ever been around teenage girls on an excursion away from the Council?"  
  
"Well, no," the black man admitted.  
  
"Then you have no idea what you are dealing with," the Englishman stated grimly.  
  
"Gabby! Gabby!" pounding feet sounded, racing down the stairs.  
  
"Oh God," Wesley muttered. Three girls assembled in front of him. Gunn nudged him in the ribs.  
  
"Look, Wes, they're only little," he whispered. A small smirk appearing on Jess's lips went unnoticed, as the ex-Watcher replied,  
  
"At an age where they can do the most damage."  
  
Gunn rolled his eyes at the girls, and gestured at Wesley. They giggled.  
  
"All right. Let the terror begin," Wesley muttered miserably.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
To the casual observer, they looked like they'd been hit by a bomb. It was the only explanation for the shell shocked expression on their faces.  
  
"It's your turn," Gunn managed to say numbly. Wesley shook his head, a glazed look in his eyes.  
  
"No. It's not. It's another shop. And it's Gabby. You took Gabby, remember? After the ice cream shop, you said, 'I'm not taking Jess'. You took her. Now do your duty, like a true Watcher," Wesley ordered indistinctly. A small smile quirked Gunn's lips.  
  
"Correction, English. I'm not the Watcher. You are. They're Potentials. Your job."  
  
"Damn," the Englishman muttered, as he strode into the store.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
"I'm sorry, mister, there were three girls in here, but they've gone," the harassed clerk told him, a worried look crossing her face. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and a tag on her pink uniform said, 'Hi, I'm Sandy. How can I help?'  
  
Wesley groaned.  
  
"Did you see where they went?" he asked politely, whipping off his glasses, and polishing them at hyperspeed.  
  
"Oh yeah. Across the mall. Other side. See, Victoria's?" His stomach dropped, as she pointed. Oh no. This was far, far worse than anything he'd even begun to think about.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"What about this one?" Jess held up the lilac bra. Gabby considered, her head on one side.  
  
"I think I liked the yellow," she offered. Jess rolled her eyes.  
  
"C'mon Gabby, it's not about favourite colours," she sighed. She gave a complacent smirk to the mirror. "It's about which one looks hot."  
  
Faye hid a yawn. "Black's the common one then."  
  
Both of the others turned to look at her. She shrugged.  
  
"Hey, didn't say anything. Just, black is generally considered to be the colour of sexy underwear."  
  
Jess glanced back at the mirror, and pushed her auburn hair behind her shoulders. She flicked through the rack before them. With a naughty grin, she held up a lacy, black bra. "We have lift off."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Two men raced into the Victoria's Secret shop, scattering women.  
  
"The important thing to do is just.not look," Wesley suggested, as they came to a screeching halt in front of a display. Gunn grinned.  
  
"And miss the show?" he asked, impishly. Wesley glared.  
  
"Hey, look over there, English!"  
  
"I'm trying not to, thank you!"  
  
Gunn rolled his eyes good naturedly.  
  
"No. I'm talkin' about the three girls, one a redhead, who just walked into the dressing room. And damn they have a lot of underwear with them!" his eyes widened. "They're not intending to.buy it, are they?"  
  
Wesley, with shut eyes frowned with frustration. "Council. Girls. Free. Of course they'll buy it if they can!"  
  
Gunn raised an eyebrow. "We'd better get over there."  
  
Wesley, his arms outstretched to feel his way there, crashed into a display labelled, 'naughty Secrets to make your partner go wild!' Gunn hooted with laughter, as the dismayed, and flustered ex-Watcher hurried to scoop up the dropped underwear, his face turning a dull, deep red.  
  
"I think we find them, now," Wesley stated, his voice icy.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
"Jessamy! Gabriella! Faye! Where are you?"  
  
"Sir, you can't go in there, sir!" the flustered attendant tried to hold the furious Watcher back, as he shoved past her, and into pastel central, the dressing rooms.  
  
Jess peeked around the corner of the pale pink curtain, to see Wes storming up the central aisle. She smirked, a wicked look in her blue eyes.  
  
"Pay back," she whispered. Trying her hardest to throw her voice, she called,  
  
"Wesley? We're all done. We're in the dressing room on your left, no, up a bit, that's it. Hang on, Gabby just needs to." Gabby blushed hotly, but kept quiet.  
  
"No waiting," the angry man ordered. He yanked back the curtain, revealing an old lady, struggling with the clasp of a bra. Both pairs of eyes widened in horror.  
  
"You nasty, NASTY man!" the woman shrieked, flapping her hands at him, striking his front. Wesley, now white, was backing out of the room, his eyes shut. He fell hard against the facing dressing room, and pulled down the curtain on a woman in her early thirties. She screamed, and pulled the curtain around her, jabbing at the call button for the attendant with a finger.  
  
Stifling laughter, the three girls ran out of the dressing rooms, to the counter, to pay for their items.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Wesley, his face still scarlet, stormed up to the three girls, happily swinging bags, and eating ice cream, seated in a booth with Gunn. The black man couldn't hide his mirth at the sight of the 'rogue demon hunter'.  
  
"Jessamy Kendall. You will train with Angel this evening," he ordered stiffly. "Now get back to the car."  
  
Still shaking his head snickering, particularly as he noticed the large bruise purpling on the side of Wesley's cheek, Gunn led the way towards Angel's car.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Hit, block, hit," he instructed. The Potential's eyes blazed with determination, and she shifted her hands wider apart on the quarterstaff. Sweeping strokes upwards, and,  
  
"Hit, block, hit," he repeated. " No, Jess. Again." In frustration, she threw the staff down, where it clattered against the cool stone of the basement.  
  
"I did it okay. I do not need to do these stupid little drills!" she tossed her head in defiance. "I'm a Potential. Either the slayer dies, and I become the Chosen One, or she doesn't, and I don't."  
  
He regarded her with no expression.  
  
"Again."  
  
"No!" she yelled.  
  
Angel turned towards the staircase.  
  
"Fine," he said quietly. "Then you won't fight. No training for three days."  
  
The redhead was left in the centre of the dark room, struggling to swallow the bitter retort on her lips.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Cordy? Are you going to be okay?" the little girl flung herself at the brunette, her thin arms encircling the woman's neck, the heart shaped face buried in her neck. Cordelia chuckled, hugging the child tightly.  
  
"Yeah. I'm gonna be fine." She stroked the shiny hair, combed into two neat bunches, and held Jane close.  
  
"What happened, Cordy?" Jane whispered, looking into Cordelia's hazel eyes. The woman considered a moment.  
  
"Well, you know I have those visions?" the little girl nodded her head. "I got a bad one. And it made my head ache, so I didn't feel so good. So I had a rest, and now I'm good to go," she finished, with a tight smile.  
  
In answer, the child burrowed back into her arms. "I don't want you to go away, like Mommy," she muttered, clinging to Cordelia.  
  
Cordelia looked down.  
  
"Honey, I'm not going anywhere," she told her gently. "I'm staying right here."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
The lobby's glass doors swung open.  
  
"Come in, it's fine. We're still working at eight o'clock at night," Angel called dryly. Most of AI's customers called during the standard work times. However, there were a few who saw the Hyperion as a drop in centre. He fastened the top button of his dark blue shirt.  
  
"Good to know I haven't disturbed anyone," the woman replied, in a husky tone, a hint of a grin in her voice.  
  
"Gwen?"  
  
She cocked her head on one side.  
  
"The one and only," she confirmed. Clad in black leather pants, and a tight red halter top and long black gloves, she was unmistakably the same woman.  
  
"Ooh, have we added whores to the repertoire of misfits in this place?" a girl queried, a snide tone in her voice, as she walked out of the office, a younger blonde following her.  
  
Gwen raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Nice munchkin, Angel. What, the wizard of Oz had layoffs?" She glanced at Jess. "Let me guess, your blood opens the gate to a portal, or something fantastic. Don't tell me you're this annoying without a purpose."  
  
Jess smirked sarcastically. "Nice. What breed of freak are you?"  
  
"Repeat that." The electrically charged woman's tone was icy.  
  
"Okay. What kind of a freak are-" Gwen pulled off a glove.  
  
"The kind that can make you sizzle like you just touched bare wires. Get back under your rock, brat, or I'll make your curls stand on end." She smiled slowly at Angel, and shrugged loosely.  
  
"I don't like kids."  
  
"I get that," he answered. He glanced at Jess, whose chin was raised belligerently. "Jess. Go back in the kitchen."  
  
She glared at the brunette, sneered, and walked back inside. Gabby raced to keep up with her.  
  
"So. What are you here for?"  
  
"There's a small problem. I need to get your input on it." She glanced around. "n private."  
  
"This way," Angel indicated, as he closed the doors of the office.  
  
She paced the floor, as he settled himself into the black leather chair.  
  
"Something is wrong, Angel. I was sent on an op," she glanced at him impatiently. "Not a bad one. Just a regular metal security system, guards. I could do it in my sleep. "  
  
"So why are you here?" he asked. She shook out her shoulders, swinging her arms to loosen the muscles.  
  
"Because something happened. I was asked to find this, the tool of Persephone, heard of it?"  
  
He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desktop.  
  
"Yeah. It's an object that-"  
  
"Grants visions of the future in the central globe. Better than a Seer, because it's more precise," she cut in, nodding. "So you've heard of it. Good. I bought the first item with a favor. It was too heavily guarded for me to attack. "  
  
She held out a small ball. It was a smoky, glass globe, filled with mist.  
  
"Doesn't work until you connect the second part. Owned, previously," she allowed herself a small smile, "By the wonderful Fairman Merchandising. I got it from them Tuesday night." She pulled out a small metal clip, and tossed it to him. He caught it, surprised.  
  
"Oh don't worry if you drop it," she shrugged. "The thing's worthless."  
  
"The tool of Persephone? But, it-"  
  
"Doesn't work," she filled in. She gave a bitter smile. "Yeah. I know how the deal is. Persephone's globe, used when given to her by her mother to see the world above. I do research the stuff I take, Angel. I had a large amount riding on this. Business has been slow recently. I needed this money. And Jacobs, the guy I was working for, refused to pay me. I got that to him in perfect condition Angel. And that guy needed it. He won't pay me, says it doesn't work. Something big screwing with something that powerful? This stinks of something you guys handle, so I came to you-"  
  
The doors to the office slid open, as Jane stopped in the doorway. She stared at Gwen, her eyes wide in terror, and screamed.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
A/N: Apologies for the super long chapter. I couldn't find a place to stop. Review, oh please! 


	7. Explanations

A/N: Surname I'm pulling from Angel Season Four eppie. It *should* be on the tape. Checking it now.  
  
[ Some time later]  
  
Okie dokie. There's no name on the tape. Guess they don't want to name Faith's surname. So for the purpose of my fics, Faith is Faith Carter. And btw, thanks go to Jen, as per usual, parce que elle m'aide quand' elle est en vacance. To those of u who aren't practising for the French written GCSE.she's helped me when she's on holiday. Endured me bugging her. Hence my lil' happy.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Faith paced the floor of the cell. She tipped back her head, and breathed in deeply. The fresh air filtering through the solid bars carried the smell of spring. Sultry, and warm, it spiralled into her, making her remember. Practising, fighting, talking. It had been winter when she'd killed the guy.  
  
Spring when she started working for him. The Mayor.  
  
She stretched her muscles, loosening them, in readiness for the yard time. She knew the drill. At exactly 12.02, the bell would ring. Guards unlocked the cells so they could go out into the prison yard. Small for the number of women there, sandy coloured dirt. But there were weights. Bars. Keeping her strength up. But for what? So that another crisis could come up? She was the Slayer, but was going to die behind bars. Never slay a vampire.  
  
She smirked suddenly. She'd outlive B. Consolation prize. Knock the longest- lived crown off the prom queen's head.  
  
"430019." She looked up. She knew her number.  
  
"Out." The guard gestured with the baton, sliding the door back. She frowned, confused.  
  
"What?" They always opened the door from the back. What the hell?  
  
The blow came out of nowhere. She fell, hard.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
He dialled the number, holding his breath. Jay picked up.  
  
"Hey. Is Starr contactable?" he asked brusquely.  
  
"You sent her, Sullivan. She's in L.A. No phone. She ditched it. Said Wyndham Pryce. Discontinued operative here. There's only been two. I suggest if you want contact, you get yourself out there.," Jay replied. Monotone. Most of the Council backups were the same.  
  
"Right. Potentials?" Sully asked, scanning the room for sign of the other employees. He wasn't supposed to be here.  
  
"Coming in all sides of the globe. I'd say we have twenty here. We get reports of them, then they go over to that Watcher. Rupert Giles."  
  
Sullivan felt his throat tighten.  
  
"No," he corrected. "Wesley Wyndham Pryce. Longest known Slayer. He's collecting them. Starr took three to him. Kendall, Hart, and Robins."  
  
Jay hissed in a breath on the other line. "What are you talking about? Wyndham Pryce was fired. 1999. His Slayer went bad. Faith Carter. Killed a human. Council operatives sent to recover her. She broke free. Off the record, Sullivan, she's more than the Council can handle. However, she made contact with Angelus, the souled vampire, and has spent the last two years in prison. The Watcher I referred to is Rupert Giles. Watcher of the Slayer, 1997. Buffy Summers. Due to her revival, after death, she created the second Slayer line. Giles was fired following her failed Cruciatmentem. She then became rogue when Pryce was sent out to become Slayer to her and Carter. She rejoined the Council, as did Giles in 2001, and Giles has been training the Potentials since the Council ended," Jay finished. His solemn, operative tone ended. "C'mon, Sully. You know this. You, and a few others, including me, made it out of the Watcher School. Starr and some of the Potentials escaped. "  
  
"I think I may have sent my sister into real danger," Sullivan murmured, as he hung up the phone, pale, and shaken.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Jane cast a scared look in Angel's direction, and spun, running towards the glass doors, tears streaking down her pale face.  
  
"You promised!" she shrieked. "You promised! How could you?"  
  
"What's wrong?' Gwen asked, bewildered, over the child's howls, as they ran after her.  
  
"I don't *know*!" Angel growled. Cordelia appeared at the top of the stairs.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. Jane tripped on the steps to the front door, subsiding into silent sobs.  
  
"You're just like all the others," she said, dully. She looked up at Cordy, her eyes accusing. "You promised. I hate you."  
  
She flung herself out of the door, and ran. Cordelia cast a confused look at Angel, but chased after the girl.  
  
"Jane! Jane, sweetie, what's wrong?" she caught the little girl by the shoulders. Jane's head tipped forward, lolling on her neck. All the fight ebbed out of her, and she stood limply against Cordelia, as the woman knelt on the cold stone path, to meet her height.  
  
"Sweetheart, I swear to you, I didn't break my promise. What's wrong?" she held Jane's shoulders lightly.  
  
Jane met her eyes, and Cordelia was struck by the pain, and yet, acceptance in them. She had the eyes of someone who had been through the worst life had to throw, and was on the brink of it again.  
  
"Why would she come back if you hadn't broken your promise?' she asked simply.  
  
"Gwen?" Cordelia asked incredulously. At the name, Jane nodded mutely, the tears beginning to course down her cheeks again.  
  
"Honey, no one is taking you away. No one. I won't let them," Cordy told her fervently.  
  
Gwen walked slowly towards them. In Cordelia's arms, Jane tensed, stiffening.  
  
"I remember you now. Little kid. You're eight, right?" Jane nodded. Gwen gave a sardonic smile. "Academy through and through, huh? Don't worry, I broke free of that stuff a while back. I'm not with them."  
  
"You're.you're not?" Jane's voice was tiny.  
  
Gwen shook her head.  
  
"Nope. Free agent."  
  
Jane sank back into Cordelia's arms, laughing, and sobbing, as she flung her arms around the woman's neck. Mystified, Cordy scooped her up, holding her tight, while looking at Gwen, baffled.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
Sitting down on a soft leather chair, in Angel's office, Jane so exhausted that she was asleep in her lap, she listened to Gwen explain.  
  
"When I was a little girl, I was taken by my parents to an academy, for people like me. They could *deal* with my problem. " Gwen turned, running a hand along the sleek mahogany desk contemplatively.  
  
"I'm twenty one, Cordelia. Been operating solo for a while now. I was 17 when Jane was brought to the Academy." Cordelia looked down at the child in her arms.  
  
"What are you saying?" Angel asked.  
  
"Jane was brought there, because it was thought she had some kind of ability. There's no kid at that Academy who *doesn't* have some tie to the freaky. And there are hundreds of kids there. I didn't really notice most of the kids, wouldn't have recognised her. She was four? Five? But you couldn't forget Jane." She smile was bittersweet, as she tousled the sleeping little girl's long fair hair.  
  
"Why?" Angel asked hoarsely.  
  
Gwen turned to face him, her hair swinging out behind her. Her lips were still quirked in a smile, but her eyes were dreamy, and looked beyond the vampire.  
  
"No one could forget the screams," she said softly.  
  
"What?"  
  
The young woman gazed around the office.  
  
"It's nice here. Guess Jane ended up in a nice place. Good for her, you know?"  
  
"What did you mean, Gwen?" Angel repeated, folding his arms. She met his eyes.  
  
"She didn't have talent," she answered simply. "This wasn't the kind of school where you learnt at your own pace, alright? If you didn't do what they wanted quick enough, they made you."  
  
She looked down at the girl. Long fair eyelashes lay curled up on the pale cheeks. Dried tear stains were barely visible. Her lilac jumper had dirt stains on it, from the run into the garden, a bright bumblebee knitted into it was still grinning away, a blob of mud obscuring one of its eyes.  
  
"It wasn't a nice place." Her voice sounded hollow now. "I don't know what she went through. No one really knows what each one goes through. I just know that at first, when they start, the kids scream. Long, and loud, terrified. Then they begin to get it. Truth is, sometimes magical ability, or telekinesis can be forced on a kid. All of them got something. Except her. She screamed, and screamed, long after everyone else had stopped. And then she went silent. It was like, they finally broke her. Only she didn't have some freak gift at the end of it." She was angry now.  
  
She whirled around, her arms wrapped around herself. "I was there still when she left. Some woman picked her up. It was the look in her eyes that made me remember. Real hope, you know? All that they'd done to her, and she was still a little kid. Still had hope." She turned her back. "I don't like kids. Really don't. "  
  
"The necklace," Cordelia murmured. Without facing her, Gwen answered.  
  
"Tags. Put around her neck, so she could be identified quickly. Some of those kids.when they were finished, you didn't know how old they were. Should have her name, DOB, and the date she went into the academy."  
  
Cordelia picked the tag up gently from where it hung around Jane's neck. The child barely stirred.  
  
"2/6/2000," she whispered. "Right under her birth-date." She fingered it, making the silver flash in the dim light.  
  
"How many children did you say were there, Gwen?" Angel asked, frowning, looking at Jane.  
  
She shrugged elegantly, reaching up to comb her hair back with her fingers, arching her back. "I was more of a 'get the hell out of there' person than a 'let's stop and count'.  
  
"So when she saw you-" Cordelia breathed, as she put the pieces together. Gwen nodded, lifting a slim shoulder.  
  
"Must of thought I'd come to take her back. Poor little midget. That place still creeps me out."  
  
"I'm going to put her to bed," Cordy said, lifting the little girl, and holding her tightly against herself.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Cordy?" The little voice was slurred, as Jane rubbed sleepily at her eyes with balled fists. Cordelia bent over the bed, tucking the quilt around the child tighter.  
  
"Hey," she said, keeping her voice soft. "Night time, remember?"  
  
"You're not gonna let them take me?" Cordelia kissed Jane's forehead, sweeping the hair off her face.  
  
"No, sweetie." Jane sighed, and rolled over to face the wall, little sleepy sounds of contentment.  
  
As Cordelia reached the door, she called out.  
  
" 'Love you." Cordy stopped, and turned back to the little girl. Jane yawned, and the eyelashes fluttered closed. She smiled.  
  
"Love you too."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
She opened her eyes. The room was white. Bare, empty.  
  
[Weird sense of déjà vu here]  
  
She sat up, and pushed away the blankets. A tugging feeling at her skin caught her attention, and she looked down. A drip was connected to her arm. She yanked it out, hardly feeling the sting. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and padded across to the door, her bare feet cold on the icy floor.  
  
She opened it, and peered around. A hospital, like any other. People talking, moving around, lab coats moving past, she ducked behind the door, and pressed against it.  
  
"Extremely dangerous..blood sample..guard," she caught.  
  
[What the hell is goin' on here?]  
  
She scanned the room for clothes. She damn well wasn't going to make it out of here butt naked except for a papery gown, was she?  
  
"Room 104," she heard a woman's voice, and froze, instinctively.  
  
"Well now-" the woman sang out. She had no choice. Faith slammed the pan across the woman's temple.  
  
Stripping the woman [there goes the déjà stuff again] she dressed quickly in the pyjama type outfit. Walking fast, letting her hair hang in front of her face, she strode past the guard, and stepped into the nurses' room. Snatching jeans and a baggy top off a peg, she changed, and made a break for the front of the hospital.  
  
"Anderson General. Well that makes a hell of a lot of difference," she muttered. She grabbed the arm of a passer-by. "Hey, you know if this is L.A or not?"  
  
Bewildered, the man nodded.  
  
She took off. One place to find out anything, particularly as it seemed she was on parole, indefinitely. Angel.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
A/N: I know it got a bit fluffy there, but explanations will abound. It was kinda necessary, and Gwen, okay, OOC for a bit there, but hopefully, she got back on track. So.did the cliff-hanger work? Lol. Yeah. More news on the Academy in upcoming chapters. Btw, I loved the Buffy ep with Cassie. To all of you out there who don't read cryptic, this is a clue. Lol. Next chapter.Sullivan, Faith, and a few faces come back to AI, and Jess..well, it's almost time for a butt kicking there..I didn't know you could hate your own characters.She reminds me waaay too much of a girl I know, and I kinda resemble Faye more than any other.  
  
Btw, on relationships front, I have my own ideas, but any suggestions on the Faith 'ships front? Lilah and Wes may or may not make a comeback, I haven't yet decided if I can write it or not, so if you wanna see it, suggest it. I'm not averse to suggestions. Hint hint! Ooh, if you wanna do anything special, or you're just plain bored..and if you've gotten down to here, you *are*, check out the World's End site on my profile page. New nominations are needed, and the categories are similar to the previous, so please, nominations needed! 


	8. Arrivals

A/N: Like I said, faces make a return in this chapter. And there will be lil' bits of fluff in there. Plus, I made a decision on one of the 'ships, so it's in there.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
The old van was hot, although all the windows were rolled down. The brilliant sunshine was beating down, as green palm trees flashed past, as he trundled along the highway. Absently, he beat out a rhythm against the battered steering wheel, and hummed an old tune.  
  
Oz yawned sleepily, raking his fingers through the soft red spikes of his hair. He glanced at his watch. He was making good time, he would reach L.A before sundown. Although his experiences now made himself confident he could control himself, on a full moon he still liked to be inside.  
  
[Last time I saw Angel, Cordelia, was three years ago. Ring thing. Willow.]  
  
The string of thought had, inevitably, brought him back to Willow. Oz sighed as he recalled the last occasion he'd seen her. He'd come back, so sure he could now be with her, and-  
  
Since Willow, he'd had a few girlfriends. Where he was studying, up in the mountains, there were other students, also cursed with lycanthropy. His lips quirked in a small, Oz-like smile as he remembered Amy, the Australian werewolf he'd met there.  
  
Still, sex and love were entirely different. With Willow, it had been very different.  
  
Sitting back in his seat, Daniel Osborne settled in for a few more hours driving.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ` *  
  
"Sorry to disappoint, Wes, but no evil schemes," Lilah Morgan smiled slowly, as she pulled the covers up over herself, and lay back, staring at the ceiling. The ex Watcher had his hands folded behind his head.  
  
"I didn't ask, Lilah," he reminded her.  
  
"Oh, but I can see that you so desperately wanted to know," she drawled lazily. "What's up, Wes? The lamb still trying to buy its way back into the fold?"  
  
"Quite the contrary, Lilah," he answered, with a small smile of his own. She rolled over to face him, propping her head up on her elbow, surrounded by the burgundy sheets.  
  
"So what is it? Normally when you come around to get down and dirty-" she let the sentence hang, then smiled, a little more cruelly. "Well. Not that it isn't *always* dirty. But then, today was particularly-"  
  
"Shut up," Wesley snapped, cutting her off. She laughed throatily, tossing back her head in mirth.  
  
"Oh Wesley, Wesley," she shook her head, "*Now* it gets under your skin? Just so happens that's where I'd like to be," she mused, tracing a swirling pattern across his chest. He caught her hand, and she looked up, big brown eyes blinking through the sooty lashes, a mock innocent look. Lilah Morgan hadn't been innocent for a very long time.  
  
'If you must know," he said, over his shoulder, as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and began to tug on his clothes, "It was an escape. Too many people at the hotel." He allowed himself a smirk. "Besides. You always were good at what you do best."  
  
Outraged, the lawyer sat up, wrapping the dark sheet around her breasts, her hair tumbling across her shoulders, as she glared at him.  
  
"So you've scratched your itch, is that it?"  
  
"Precisely," he answered calmly, fastening his belt buckle.  
  
"And you're just going to walk out? You called me out of a very important meeting you know," she began angrily, sounding flustered.  
  
He shrugged, and opened the door.  
  
"Isn't that what you do to me?" he asked simply, closing it behind himself.  
  
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Jane walked back and forth across the carpet of the abandoned office, her skinny arms folded.  
  
"Why do I have to do it?' she demanded.  
  
"Because you're the youngest," Jess told her bossily. "And Faye is a Potential. We need the practise."  
  
"Fine. But I get to be the Slayer next time," Jane grouched. She led the way into the deserted lobby, except for the teenaged Destroyer, making various cuts in the air, with a sword.  
  
"Go on!" Jess hissed. Jane took a deep breath, and then, snarling, the little girl launched herself at the boy with a yell. Connor spun around, off balance, as he was knocked over by 60 pounds of skinny eight-year-old, growling fiercely.  
  
"That just proves my point," Jess muttered under her breath, as she led the other two into attack.  
  
"Hey vampire," she yelled. Jane looked up from her apparent savagement of Connor's neck.  
  
"You're in trouble," Jess folded her arms, lifting her chin. "Because I'm the Slayer."  
  
"So what are we, chopped liver?" Faye mumbled from behind her.  
  
Jane stood up slowly, frowning.  
  
"What are you doing?" Jess asked, bemused.  
  
"Vampy face," Jane explained as if it was obvious.  
  
"Oh. Right." Jess resumed her fighting stance, stake clutched tight.  
  
"Die, evil vampire!" she yelled, running at Jane. The little girl shrieked, and ran for the stairs, laughing.  
  
"I'm gonna slay you!" Jess promised, chasing after her, Gabby and Faye in hot pursuit.  
  
"Guess I really have been out of the slaying game," a drawling voice commented. Jess got to her feet, hauling Gabby up, as Faye picked herself up.  
  
"You gotta be careful with that," Faith nodded in the direction of the stake. "Hurt someone, if you don't know what you're doing. " she considered her statement a moment, and then laughed sadly. "Hell, even if you know what you're doing."  
  
"Faith, right?" Jess folded her arms, a hostile expression crossing her face.  
  
The brunette Slayer gave the girl a quick appraising look.  
  
"Either B's dead, and you're really short for your age, or you're not a Slayer. So don't run around with these things," she lifted a lip, plucking the stake out of Jess's hands.  
  
"Faith?" Faith turned at the familiar voice, her hazel eyes focusing on his face, her brown hair swinging out behind her as she pivoted.  
  
"Angel?" The vampire's steady gaze told her nothing.  
  
"Look, we need to talk," she began, and stopped, looking around at the younger girls. "Somewhere without Santa's elves?"  
  
Angel nodded slightly. "You hungry?"  
  
"Yeah," she replied shortly. He walked out of the room, and she followed.  
  
"Faith. Guess she'd know about stake safety," Jess muttered, sneering at the departing rogue Slayer.  
  
"Shut up, Jessamy," Gabby suddenly spoke up, turning around, and walking off. Jess stared after her, and then glared at Faye, who shrugged.  
  
"Don't look at me."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"So," Angel began casually, as he used the spatula to shift the French toast from the pan to the plate. "Why are you out?"  
  
"See, that's why I'm here," Faith cut herself a piece off the toast, and forked it up. "I don't know."  
  
Angel's eyebrows lifted, and he seated himself at the table, watching the famished Slayer eat.  
  
"Fee like elaborating on that?" he questioned. She swallowed.  
  
"I'm in jail, right? An' every morning, they do this drill, like, they let everyone out into the yard, then they let me out. Same time. Every day. So I'm waitin' for them to show, do their thing, y'know. And then outta nowhere, I get hit. Black out. Then last night, I woke up. It was way weird. Hospital. Anderson general, if you want to check. Even had a needle in my arm, and everything. Heard people talkin' outside my room, sayin' I was dangerous, and something about a blood sample. Decided I wanted the hell out of there, so came to you." She finished, and lifted another forkful of food to her mouth.  
  
"Blood sample?" he repeated, thinking. She nodded.  
  
'Shway freaksh," she said, through a mouthful. She gulped. "Way freakish. They have my blood on record at the Penitary. So why do they need more of it? Why get me out of jail to do it?"  
  
"Unless they're not connected with the jail," he filled in. She smiled.  
  
"Always knew you were quick, Angel. S'why I'm here. I coulda gone back there, I s'pose, but I thought, if they, whoever the hell wanted my blood, could get me out of jail, me going back there wouldn't solve anything. They'd have had to sort records 'cause otherwise, my escape would be on the news seein' as I'm a convicted murderer. But there's no news. Nothing. So I'm out, somehow."  
  
"Angel, why is she sitting in our kitchen?" Cordelia's voice was icy from the doorway, as she stood there, her arms folded. Angel hurriedly stood, Faith taking a last bite of the French toast before she stood as well.  
  
"Hey Cor. Nice hair," Faith commented, with a smile. Cordelia lifted an eyebrow, and turned to Angel.  
  
"Much as I appreciate our manifesto, help the helpless, Faith isn't helpess. We've tried this before, remember? And she tortured people. Wesley is part of the team, Angel. And why the hell you've broken a felon out of jail, I really don't know."  
  
"You've never gotten over me screwing Xander first, have you?" Faith mused, breaking into the tension. Cordelia glared at her. Faith smirked.  
  
"Look, Cor, as far as you and Angel goes, great, I'm happy for you. But Angel didn't bust me out of jail, I was sprung by someone with a thing for my blood. I'm here because there's nowhere else to go, alright?"  
  
"Blood?" the seer repeated.  
  
"Yeah. Blood taken out of me in the-" Faith answered, but Cordelia suddenly saw the vision flash in front of her eyes, a memory of the thick smell of blood thrown on a fire, and the slick, red coating a pair of spidery hands. She closed her eyes, trying to hold down her stomach.  
  
"Uh, Angel, Gwen has gone home, she'll be back tomorrow. Wants to look up stuff about this Tool thingie. Jane and the Potentials are in the lobby, Wesley's disappeared, Gunn is out, and Fred is with him. Connor's being pulverised by four little girls," she finished. She moved toward the door, then stopped, and looked straight at Faith. "If you hurt anyone I love, I will kill you."  
  
"Looks like the cheerleader got rocks," Faith commented. Angel looked at her.  
  
"You can stay here. I'll show you a room."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Faye erased the line, and looked again at the doorframe. Sighing, the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she carefully drew it in again.  
  
"Careful with that. Never know, might bite it off." A quiet voice near her ear made her jump.  
  
"I won't," she answered. Oz gave a little Oz-shrug.  
  
"Okay. But teeth can hurt," he warned.  
  
"Yeah. One day I slipped, and I bit my tongue," she smiled shyly. "It hurt a lot."  
  
"See, biting tongues does that. Not if you bite your elbow though. Or knee."  
  
"Have you bitten your knee?" she asked curiously. Oz shrugged again.  
  
"No. But it's true."  
  
"Sometimes I think drawing is so fun to do, it's easy. And then, there's one line that completely screws it up, and it's hard," she admitted, dropping her eyes to the page.  
  
"I get that. Some chords, guitar," he explained, "are easy. Sound good pretty quick. And then there's some chords, diminished ninth, man's chords. Takes practise. So does drawing."  
  
"I guess so," she replied softly.  
  
"Oz."  
  
The man stood up from his crouch, and nodded almost imperceptibly at Angel.  
  
"Angel."  
  
"You in L.A for a while?"  
  
"No. Looking for a book."  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"Ching's daemona."  
  
"Think we've got it."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I can get it."  
  
"Please."  
  
Faye watched them, her head moving back and forth like a tennis viewer.  
  
"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked. Oz shook his head.  
  
"Neither do you," he pointed out. Faye shrugged, and Oz smiled.  
  
"It's late. Do you want to stay?" Angel asked. Oz nodded.  
  
"Full moon."  
  
"It's not dangerous?"  
  
"No. Just a precaution. Fetching Jordy."  
  
"Ah. Show you upstairs. This is Faye, by the way." The vampire gestured to the young girl. Oz raised a hand.  
  
"Hi."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Starr gingerly let the meat drop into the pan, and heard it begin to sizzle.  
  
"Hello?" Hearing the call, she wiped her greasy hands on the front of her jeans, and walked out, into the lobby. Her eyes widened.  
  
"Starr!"  
  
The young woman's face went pale.  
  
"Sullivan?"  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
A/N: Yes, there is *another* original character. But . Sullivan will make his way back to England eventually. Next chapter! The vision begins to unfold, Jess and Faith face off, and (possibly) the return of Lindsey  
  
Review please! 


	9. Dream Come True

A/N: Okay.no idea what's happening in this chapter..so I'm wait and see- ing. Yeah. It's a bad policy. Ooh, thanks go to gidget, cause again, the Beta-ing, and the basically, telling me what to put. Another relationship has been decided, and you're all gonna hate me next chapter. Mwahahahahaha!!!!  
  
"Lauren! Lauren, honey, you're going to be late!" the harassed looking man called up the stairs. A little cannonball came hurtling down the stairs.  
  
"Not, Daddy!" the three year old protested, hugging her father's legs. He smiled, and bent to scoop up the wriggling little girl, smoothing the pale brown hair. He planted a kiss on his daughter's forehead, and held her tight. Lauren squirmed.  
  
"I'm hungry, Daddy."  
  
Letting the little girl slide to the floor, he poured out a bowl of cereal for her, and settled Lauren at the table. It wasn't a big room, the house wasn't expensive, but he was used to that. It was a lot nicer than his own, growing up.  
  
Happily munching, Lauren began to play with the loops in her bowl, pushing them around with her spoon.  
  
"Hurry, sweetie, you're going to be late," her father encouraged. Lauren met her eyes and beamed happily, a sweet baby smile.  
  
"Love you, Daddy."  
  
"I love you too, sweetheart," he replied, ruffling his daughter's hair. "Let's get you in the truck."  
  
Happily, Lauren gazed out of the high window, perched on the car seat he had fastened to the passenger side. A faded rug was tossed under it, to catch cookie crumbs, or juice being dropped. She was chirping in her own little made up language as he swung himself easily into the driving seat, and smiled at her. The pretty pink overalls were clean for once, and Lauren looked adorable. Shoving the guitar down, he started the truck, and pulled out of the driveway.  
  
Dropping Lauren off, the child hugged him and dropped a wet kiss on his cheek, and he felt a small pang at letting his little girl go. He leaned against the truck, watching Lauren walk into the building with the pre- school teacher, absently rubbing a scar. At least he'd get her back at three. He started the engine, and drove away, heading to the bar.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Yawning, the slayer made her way down the stairs, stretching her arms out. She glanced at herself in the mirror hung in the hall, and grimaced. She'd had better days inside the penitary.  
  
Faith fastened the loose button on her shirt, enjoying the slippery feel of the dark blue silk next to her skin, and padded, barefoot into the kitchen. A young man was seated at the table, eating cereal with the newspaper spread out in front of him. Faith glanced up and down. Black hair, in messy waves across his temples. Light build, more the Wes type than Angel, or Gunn. She folded her arms, the shirt riding up over her thighs.  
  
Sullivan looked up, and almost spat out his corn.things. His eyes widened, and he blushed deep red, diverting his eyes. The brunette woman smiled slowly, and cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"Looked enough?" Sully held up a hand, coughing on the remainder of the cereal he'd swallowed the wrong way.  
  
"Er, uh, er," he spluttered, trying not to look. Faith grinned, and hopped up onto the countertop, swinging long legs.  
  
"Not that it matters," she drawled, "But who the hell are you?" The pink in his cheeks had spread to the tips of his ears.  
  
"My name," he replied, carefully not moving his gaze in her direction, "Is Sullivan. Sullivan Reynolds. You know my..my..uh, sister, my sister, Starr."  
  
Faith's smile broadened. Where the hell did they find these English guys, a monastery?  
  
"So you know Wes, right?" she asked. He nodded, picking up the bowl, and shaking out the newspaper in his other hand. He gingerly moved past her, to place the bowl in the sink.  
  
"Yes. Wesley was in his final year when I joined the school. He was, head boy," Sullivan smiled faintly at the memory. "I myself have become a part of the council."  
  
"You know a woman named Philippa? Philippa Austin?" Faith's smile was bitter sweet, and at his apologetic shake of the head, she shrugged. "Hey, no big deal."  
  
"And I thought Gwen looked slutty," Jess muttered, walking into the kitchen, and glancing at the two adults. Sullivan raised an eyebrow at the young girl. Faith shrugged.  
  
"Good morning, Jess," Sully said, wryly. The Potential ignored him, rummaging for a bowl in the cupboard.  
  
"When do you go back to jail?" Jess asked Faith. Faith shrugged.  
  
"How 'bout never?" she asked. Jess looked up.  
  
"Mr Travers said, 'once a convict, always a convict', and that you'd never change. Is it true you broke one of his best operatives arm?" Jess asked sweetly, pouring out the latest sugar-laden cereal.  
  
Sully went pale, looking at the Slayer. Faith just grinned.  
  
"Actually, no. That was B," she answered. Jess scowled.  
  
"But surely if you broke out, you've got to return," Sullivan pointed out, and then looked rather worried, and apologetic when Faith looked towards him. "I mean, it is the law. You did .. murder that man, didn't you?"  
  
"Extenuatin' circumstances," Faith leaned back against the counter, sizing him up. "I didn't break out, I got freed. By whoever the hell wanted Slayer blood. I'm not about to walk back into a cushy little jail cell, while someone's runnin' around with a syringe full of that! I can't."  
  
"Can't, or won't?" The Watcher persisted, getting bolder in his argument.  
  
Jane peeked into the kitchen, and caught the last two sentences. She shivered. The polite, calm voice, 'can't, or won't?', simple question, answer too difficult. She sank down onto the carpet outside, her arms burning as they grazed its surface, lost in thought.  
  
i"Jane, come this way please." Scared, the five year old tried to put a hand into the teacher's, and was slapped away.  
  
"No, Jane. Remember?" The little girl nodded.  
  
A big door, the handle high up. The woman turned it. A chair, and a circle painted around it.  
  
"Sit down, Jane."  
  
Obediently, the little girl sat, dwarfed by the large chair. The woman considered, pausing, tapping a long, white finger against the side of her jaw.  
  
"Jane, make this crystal float." The five year old tried to focus on the crystal, the way she'd been told to, but nothing could induce it to float. It sat on the side, doing nothing.  
  
"Make it float." The voice was icy, and crisp, the words bitten off.  
  
Scared, Jane looked up at her pleadingly.  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Can't, or won't? Won't. Make it float."  
  
"I can't!" Jane howled, and instantly, there were sharp cuts, slashing across her magically, thin lines of red across her body, cutting her arms, torso, face, and legs. Terrified, she twisted in the chair, trying to get down, but she was bound in place, and it hurt, it hurt so bad.  
  
"Make it float." The voice was expressionless, Jane closed her eyes tightly, wishing.  
  
'Mommy. Daddy. Please, come get me. Please!'  
  
"They're not coming back." The child's eyes flew open. Violently, she jerked against the magical control, falling back against the chair.  
  
"No!"  
  
"No?" An element of surprise was in the director's voice. She repeated it. "No?"  
  
"They will! They want me! They're coming *back*!"  
  
"They're dead," the adult voice was like a snake, hissing spite. Tears trickled down Jane's cheeks.  
  
"No," she whimpered. The director inspected her nails.  
  
"Make the crystal float, Jane. " Frightened, and hurting, the child tried once again to make the small piece of rock rise, by the tiniest amount. It sits there, motionless.  
  
"I can't!"  
  
Ripples going through her, it was hot, so hot, there were things running up her arms, under her skin, biting her, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt!!  
  
The five year old screamed.  
  
/i  
  
Jane's eyes were wide, and unseeing, the pupils dilated. She sat silently, her hand wrapped around and twisting in the chain around her neck tighter and tighter, until the fingers were bloodless.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
Faith met his gaze dead on.  
  
"I can't. As in, I don't know what they hell they did to get me out of there. But they did, and they pulled a lot of strings to do it. There's no 'murderer on the loose' in the news, nothing to show that I'm out, ooh, people should be scared," she stalked forward, her face in his. "So can't. I'm stuck on the outside, even if I want to go back, sort this 'redemption' thing out once and for all." She glanced at the Potential, who was listening eagerly, a spiteful expression on her face.  
  
"Suddenly, I'm not so hungry," she said shortly, leaving the kitchen.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
"  
  
"Hello Starr." She paused, her hands on her hips.  
  
"How did you know it was me?"  
  
"Brotherly intuition?" Sully suggested. Starr folded her arms.  
  
"How did you know it was me?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow at her brother. The 19 year old gave her a sheepish grin.  
  
"Fine. Saw you in the mirror." He jerked a thumb toward the mirror, and the door in direct view from the mirror. She sighed, and rolled her eyes.  
  
"Sully, when will you grow up?"  
  
"Possibly never," he answered thoughtfully. She looked around. The small bag he'd brought the previous night was on top of the made bed, a shirt, and suit neatly folded inside.  
  
"What's happening? Aren't you staying?" she asked. He wiped toothpaste from his mouth, and zipped up the washbag.  
  
"No," he shook his head. "I'm needed back there. Watchers being all Watcher- y, we tend to find it distressing if one of our number is, well, unwatchable. I wasn't really supposed to come out here. I thought I'd handed you over to a maniac! Mind you, Jess could take care of any maniac," he added, closing the bag. "She's become even more bloody, if that is possible."  
  
"Oh God," Starr groaned. "It was enough trying to keep her in hand on the journey. Mind you, Wesley isn't insane. A little different, perhaps, to the Wesley you remember."  
  
"Hmm," Sullivan mused, with a wry grin. "I wonder why it is, the Watchers that tend to stray into the grey area of the world always seem to survive, their slayers included, and the ones who stay whiter than white get killed within days?"  
  
Starr snorted. "Because the Watchers are raving mad?"  
  
"Point," Sully answered thoughtfully, then burst out laughing. Starr hugged him tightly.  
  
"Really have to go?" she asked. He nodded.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I hate the council," she grouched. He chuckled.  
  
"Yes, indeed, I loathe it on occasion. But I do have to go back. This morning, actually," he said apologetically.  
  
"Yeah. I know. Go do the white hat thing," she sighed.  
  
"I'll let myself out. Pass on my thanks to Angel for allowing me to stay the night. I gather he is .. occupied," Sully smiled.  
  
"*That*s what they're calling it?' Starr queried, arching a dark brow.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Angel watched the dust motes spiral in the thin shard of sunlight peeking between the curtains, and then down at his sleeping over. Cordy was lying flat down on the bed, her face mushed against the pillow, one arm draped across him. He smiled, lying back, but glanced at the clock on the side- table, and groaned.  
  
"Cordy?"  
  
"Aschleep." The automatic fuzzy response made him laugh.  
  
"C'mon Cordy. It's twelve thirty. We've got to get up." Grouchily, the Seer sat up, shrugging off the sheets.  
  
"Why?" she asked, plaintively giving him big, sad, hazel eyes. The vampire felt his resolve melt.  
  
"Because-" he began, trying to remember his reasoning, as she traced a line up his arm with a finger, sprawled on her side, her head propped up with her right arm, swathed in the white linen sheet.  
  
"Because it's late," he answered finally. She pouted.  
  
"It's not *that* late."  
  
"Cordelia," he answered, trying not to laugh, "It's about as late as it gets before afternoon."  
  
She leant back against him.  
  
"Not really. In vampire time, it's like, one in the morning. Can't we make it one in the morning?" she appealed, lightly kissing his jawline.  
  
"I suppose we could consider it," he agreed. She smiled, and trailed a kiss closer.  
  
"And if anyone tries to reach us-"  
  
"We'll just, resist," he finished.  
  
"Not getting up," she nodded decisively. She smirked. "Okay. Maybe just a little."  
  
"Cordy!" he exclaimed. She gave him an innocent look.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Hello? Angel?" the woman walked quickly through the lobby, looking for the vampire. She paused, seeing the little girl seated on the floor, Faye beside her, an arm wrapped around Jane's shoulders, calling Jane's name.  
  
She moved forward, and crouched to Jane's height. Gwen caught the blank look, and the unconscious movement with the necklace, and sat down, with a sigh, placing her fingers over Jane's.  
  
"Hey," she said softly. Jane blinked, and looked at her. Her gaze flickered over her, and then away.  
  
"It's okay, you know,"Gwen said lightly. Jane met her eyes. "You can get it taken off." She fiddled with the tag.  
  
"No, I can't, see, it's welded on," Jane lifted the chain to show her, but Gwen shook her head.  
  
"Nope. Metal can be cut. You can get it cut off, if you want." She watched the little girl's reaction. "You could put the tag on a chain, a real one. Then you could take it off, or wear it. If you wanted."  
  
Faye got up slowly, moving away from the two people. She headed upstairs, still thinking about the lost, blank look in Jane's eyes, deep, and dark.  
  
Gwen paused, hugging her knees to her chest, memories of the place dancing through her mind, making her feel eighteen again, just having escaped. "See, people like us, Jane, we've done a lot. You can see the tags as a kind of.medal.that proves you went through it. You might forget about it when you get older, but the necklace proves you were there."  
  
She smiled at Jane, and said, finally, "Whatever happened, at least we survived."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
The phone rang in the dusty bar, breaking through the final chords of the music. He strummed the guitar, enjoying the feel of it, as the final note hung in the air. The drinkers gave him a smattering of applause, and the bartender handed him a beer. Taking a swig of the frosty liquid, he felt in glide past his vocal chords, soothing them.  
  
"Mr McDonald?" the woman's voice was husky, throaty with smoke, and drink. He turned.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Phone call."  
  
The regulars watched the man lean easily against the bar, propped up by the long wooden length. His checked shirt was half undone, showing a plain tee shirt underneath, and his blue eyes, the women knew from experience, were unreadable. He had a more cultured accent than most around here, but McDonald didn't give a hell of a lot away. Not many people had a reason for being out here, but that life had given them a rough hand. They sipped their beers, and looked uninterested, until he hung up the phone.  
  
He took off, his guitar left by the bar, running like a bat out of hell for his truck.  
  
"Hey, you forgot-!" the bartender called, but the key was in the ignition, and moments later, the man drove out of the lot.  
  
Arriving at the school, he pulled into the parking lot, leaving the keys in the slot, battered blue door open, as he ran to the front door. A woman met him, apologetic, tears streaming down her face. Ignoring her, he ran past her.  
  
It was easy to find. Paramedics surrounded her, packing up equipment, sliding sympathetic looks at him. It wasn't a pretty sight. Light streaming through the windows, beams coloured by the bright tissue paper stuck there by the kids. Artwork, messy, and sprawling, covered the walls of the hall, and the faint smell of lemons was perceptible, coming from the polish on the wooden floor.  
  
She was lying across the floor, flung out. Her happy go lucky smile was wiped from her face, he couldn't remember a time when she hadn't looked up at him, blue eyes wide, and bright, and the sweet smile had spread across her chubby little face. The overalls and pink tee shirt were spattered with dark red, from three holes crusting over, piercing her throat. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, from the years he'd worn a suit, and been part of 'special projects', he remembered it as a ritual way of taking blood. And the last thing that defiled her, was in each of the upturned palms of the fat little hands, had been burnt a symbol.  
  
His breathing shuddered, and Lindsey jerked, bright blue eyes focused sharply on his daughter, then walked away from it, past her, down the hall, out into the lot, before throwing up.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ A/N: Okay, the Faith/Jess conflict didn't happen yet, I promise you, the little bitca will get what's coming soon. Just another thank you, which I didn't want to come before, because surprise would have gone buh-bye, background info on Lindsey, and characterisation stuff came from Imzadi, so big thanks there, and kudos. Next chapter, further developments. 


	10. Fighting Style

A/N: Again, thanks go to Jen for Beta-ing. Big kudos to PyroBear/E-beth, thank you for talking, and discussing. She knows what I mean. Bit disappointed with the response to chapter 9, cuz I needed a reaction, people!  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
Lilah Morgan was seated at her very large, highly polished desk, admiring the very nice view from her very large office. When you had moved from being a just-out-of-law-school-flunky, to 'Head of Special Projects', there were a lot 'of 'very's in life. She sipped an amber liquid in her crystal tumbler, and flipped through a pile of documents requiring attention with her manicured nails.  
  
Leaning back in the chair slightly, she let her mind drift. She had no meetings that afternoon, no clients were coming in until one that morning, so she could afford to relax a bit. Lilah Morgan would never appear in public without looking perfect. It was hard enough holding onto her job. Too many Harvard graduates thinking they could make more money in a demon law firm. Idiots. They took on more Yale than Harvard, anyway.  
  
Without her permission, lazily, her mind drew up the forbidden name, 'Wesley'. Her lips curved in a lascivious smile at the memory of how exactly, she had spent her lunch hour. The ex-Watcher was teetering on the edge of grey. She had had to keep her nails firmly imbedded in him to hang onto the man, when that little Texan had shown the slightest bit of interest.  
  
Her smile turned cold. He was always wanting something *pure*, she thought scornfully. Innocent. Miss Innocence-personified-bland-and-boring wouldn't have held his attention. Not when his habits, tastes ran to something so much more-. Lilah paused in her train of thought, dispersing memories of her lover, as she caught the noise coming from outside her office. She stalked quickly towards the door, yanking it open.  
  
Gavin Parks stood there, an insincere smile on his face, his hands neatly folded behind his back, his eyes trying to register shock, but failing in his pleasure at seeing her.  
  
"What is it?" she demanded. He peered past her, seeing the half empty glass, the strewn papers.  
  
"Oh, nothing. Just going to the meeting."  
  
She folded her arms across her crisp white blouse, and gave an equally insincere smile.  
  
"What meeting?"  
  
Gavin attempted to show dismay, lifting his hands, and blinking, and then dropping his gaze.  
  
"Of course. Quite. Uh, indeed. What meeting?" he repeated.  
  
One slim hand shot out, grasping the slime ball's jacket by the lapel, so he couldn't run off.  
  
"What meeting, Gavin?" she repeated coolly. He let out a small chuckle of laughter, and, firmly closing a hand over hers, lifted it disdainfully off his jacket.  
  
"A meeting. With the department heads. And the executives. Discussing budgeting, various projects," he said airily. He glanced at her, trying to guess the effect he was having. "I suppose, they forgot you. You haven't been in the office nearly as much." He shot her a sly, sidelong look.  
  
"Just go, Gavin," she said shortly. Happily, the weasel sidled off, having perfectly carried out his own petty act of revenge, one-up-man-ship, whatever it was.  
  
Lilah dropped back into the well-cushioned chair, and ran a hand through her hair distractedly. She had an inkling of why they were going on the offensive. Her . affairs . with Wesley .. She shook her head. None of their business what she did in her spare time. She was as influential as that little rat, Gavin, and..  
  
She picked up the tumbler again, and examined it, drawing a finger around the rim, making the glass resonate. Let them have their secret meetings. The senior partners had always had a substantial interest in her, even if that idiot running the floor didn't like what she was doing. Lilah's smile broadened. She always felt so sorry for the guys on her floor. They couldn't do what she did, to maintain *contacts* with upstairs.  
  
Dropping her head, she picked up the discarded documents once more, and resumed work.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
The door slammed hard, and Lilah looked up. Moments later, a very human hand was wrapped around her throat.  
  
"Lindsey," she managed to choke out. "Nice to have you back."  
  
He dropped her back down, and turned away, as she massaged her throat.  
  
"So was this a meaningful come on in and strangle me, or is this a social call?" she asked, with a bite of sarcasm. He turned back, and gave her a look of searing hatred.  
  
"Shut up." She moved to walk around from behind the desk, but he held up a hand.  
  
"Nice office, Lilah. They give it to you before or after you did it?" She looked at him, confused, but carefully concealing it. He hardly resembled the Lindsey she'd known, a co-head of Special Projects. In place of the well-tailored suits, he was wearing a dirty check shirt, and jeans, and the blue eyes she remembered being so carefully guarded, hiding emotions, were burning.  
  
"I really don't know what you're talking about," she said flatly. He smiled a soft, dangerous half smile, and strode forward quickly, and fastened a hand across her delicate wrist, his fingers roughened by calluses.  
  
"Then you've got a treat in store," he answered, dragging her forward. "There's a meeting. You're not in on it?" he addressed her, pulling her down the carpeted halls.  
  
"No," she answered, trying to pry his fingers from her.  
  
"Standards have slipped, Lilah. Once upon a time you'd do anything to get ahead of me, what changed?" he asked wryly, kicking open a door. Surprised, the various lawyers seated around the table looked up, and although some didn't recognise him, those who did, froze a moment. Lindsey released Lilah with such force that she hit the table's edge.  
  
"Yeah. Me," he answered the unspoken question, directing a look straight at Linwood. He took out from inside his shirt a sheaf of black and white photographs, and dropped them, face up onto the table. Lilah caught a glimpse of a child, eyes wide open, dead.  
  
Lindsey looked calmly right at Linwood. "What I want to know is, why?"  
  
"You are no longer in this firm's employ, Lindsey. I suggest you leave," the elder man commented, but his gaze faltered under the younger's steady, heated glare.  
  
"You see, I saw this symbol. A while ago, when I was walking around with a plastic hand attached," Lindsey began, ignoring Linwood's threat. He leaned over, and said, in a low voice, "And I know this firm has something to do with it."  
  
"Lindsey, get out," Linwood said wearily, as a pair of guards strode in, and grabbed the younger man, who allowed himself to be guided out.  
  
"You won't get away with it," he promised, in a menacing tone, as he was ushered out.  
  
"All right, meeting adjourned," Linwood commanded, and the ranks of department heads dispersed. Lilah looked over at the photographs. Pretty little girl, until someone cut her throat.  
  
"Who is she?" she asked Linwood. The greying man looked at her as if he wasn't going to answer, then finally said, "His daughter."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Are you sure they're ready for this?" Cordelia asked Angel. Connor's voice could be heard distantly in the background, shouting from the basement. Faith folded her arms.  
  
"If they're not, Boy Wonder is gonna go crazy," she remarked indifferently. Angel kissed Cordelia's cheek.  
  
"They'll be fine. How hard could four Potentials be?" Cordy raised an eyebrow as Angel's son came upstairs from the basement, scowling.  
  
"They're demons," he stated, and dropped onto the couch, his arms folded. Cordelia smiled.  
  
"How hard could they be?" she asked Angel. Laughing, and breathless, Gabby and Jess raced up the stairs, closely followed by Faye. Promptly, the girls stopped in front of the three adults.  
  
"So who's taking us?" Jess asked. She glanced toward Faith.  
  
"Me, Cordelia, Faith, Gunn, and Fred," Angel replied.  
  
"Why so many people? We're Potentials, we can handle a few vampires," Jess said confidently. Gabby shot her a startled look.  
  
"We're going to a nest. It's dangerous," Faith spoke up. She levelled her gaze to the girl's. "You obey orders."  
  
Jess tossed her head defiantly. Before she could answer, Starr came running down the stairs from her room above.  
  
"I'm not late, am I?" she asked quickly. Angel shook his head.  
  
Fred walked in, her arms wrapped around an artillery of various weapons. Jess's eyes lit up.  
  
"We get weapons? Cool," she said happily, smiling. Gabby and Faye looked a little less enthralled.  
  
"Yeah." Cordelia pulled four crosses from the bundle dumped unceremoniously on the countertop, on top of a pile of texts Wesley had left open before he had gone home for the night. She handed one to each Potential. Gabby stared at hers dubiously.  
  
"Is there an 'on' switch for one of these?" she asked, looking up through her long bangs, with a small smile. "'Cause I'd hate to have to use it, and it not work."  
  
Jess gave her a withering look, as Faith plucked it from Gabby's hands, and tossed it to Angel, who caught it unthinkingly, and then gave a yell of pain. He dropped it, his hand smoking.  
  
"Works," Faith commented.  
  
Jane trotted in, clad in a white nightgown, and Cordelia held open her arms. The little girl rushed into them, and was hugged tightly.  
  
"Pleeeeease can I come?" Jane begged. Faith grinned.  
  
"Too small, short stuff. Vampires like to fight something that's bigger than them."  
  
Cordy smiled. Jane made her eyes wide, and pleading.  
  
"Please?"  
  
"Sorry, sweetie. Connor's staying though, so you can play with him." Connor gave her a look that stated he clearly didn't agree.  
  
Jane pouted, and folded her arms.  
  
"Connor's not fun," she stated, her bottom lip quivering. Connor looked up.  
  
"I'm fun," he defended. Jane turned a sunny smile on him.  
  
"Good. Then you'll play with me," she ordered. Angel smirked, and mumbled something about falling right into that one. Cordy poked him, and smiled at Connor's aghast expression.  
  
"You will, won't you?" Jane asked, this time, her lip threatening to wobble again. Connor looked at his father, and then at Cordy, pleadingly.  
  
"Please?" the little girl repeated, her eyes filling with tears. "Everyone else is going out to play, and they won't take me."  
  
"Fine," the Destroyer grouched, folding his arms, and glaring at anyone who looked at him.  
  
"So, weapon up, guys," Faith directed, lifting her chin. "We're heading out."  
  
"This is boring," Jess stated, as they trudged through the park. "And pointless," she added. "We should split up. We might actually get to kill something then."  
  
"Not the point of the exercise," Angel answered easily.  
  
"What is the point?" Gabby asked. Faith shot her a grin.  
  
"Not to get killed."  
  
The gang drew to a stop.  
  
"Okay, we know there's a vamp nest on 12th. The warehouses are a good place to find fledglings, and 43rd is a client. Fred, Gunn, and Starr, you take the client's. Cordelia, you and I take Gabby and Faye. Faith is gonna take Jess," Angel directed. Jess instantly scowled at the arrangements.  
  
"Why can't I go with you guys?"  
  
"Because you're comin' with me," Faith answered shortly.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ "Angel, are you sure Jess is gonna be, you know, okay with Faith?" Cordy asked the vampire. He strode ahead, and nodded, chuckling.  
  
"Yeah. I think so." He watched the two Potentials walk along, making tentative conversation.  
  
"Maybe Gabby and Faye will make friends or something," Cordy whispered.  
  
"Yeah. Jess isn't exactly an cherub to be around," he answered.  
  
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In silence, the Slayer and Potential walked down the street, and crossed to the warehouse district.  
  
"Why am I here, anyway? It's not like there's a point to it. Watch you kill things, yeah, that's gonna further my training," Jess said sarcastically.  
  
"Here to learn," Faith answered, glancing around, as they stepped inside the gloomy building.  
  
"Learn, from you? Yeah, how to kill people, maybe," Jess scoffed. She didn't see the Slayer until she was pinned to the wall, the breath slammed out of her.  
  
"You don't like me. I can live with that," Faith said calmly, holding her tight against the wall. "What I can't live with is if, 'cause you got a problem with me, you go out and get yourself killed. So either grow up, or go home."  
  
"I can take care of myself," Jess replied sulkily, glaring at her. Faith stepped back, and let her drop.  
  
"Fine. Take me," she invited. Jess folded her arms.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm a Slayer. Same powers as a vampire, same strength, same speed, whatever. If you can take care of yourself, take me," Faith ordered coolly.  
  
Jess lunged, and spun into a roundhouse kick aimed at Faith's head. The brunette twisted easily, and blocked it, moving forward on the offensive, and blocking a punch. She flipped back, laughing holding out her hands in a gesture of invitation.  
  
"Take me," she repeated. Angrily, the younger girl raced at her, lashing out with fists, twisting into a full assault. In a neat, simple move, Faith blocked her attack again, and knocked her back with a single punch. Now moving faster, she kicked out, and high, connecting with Jess's chin, and sending the girl flying back into the wall, crashing into it. Stubbornly, the girl scrambled up, and was greeted by a ruthless onslaught, as Faith beat her back down. Slumping against the wall, she glared at the woman, blood trickling from her lip, her eye bruised.  
  
Faith placed her hands on her hips.  
  
"You're not the Slayer," she said simply. "You won't be, unless B and I both kick it, and I'm not planning on doing that for a while. You're a Potential, someone who could *possibly* become a slayer. There are three other girls staying in the hotel who could be the Slayer. There are another hundred out there. You're not 'the Chosen One'. You're just an ordinary kid. So I can either continue to smash you into a wall, until you feel like you've had enough or-"  
  
A soft growl of breath made her turn, and her hand flash to her stake. "- Watch," she finished.  
  
The slayer whirled into an attack, kicking out, and her fists flying. Pure passion, one hand shot out, and drove the wood through the vampire's heart, exploding it into a shower of dust. Faith stood there, breathless, but a small smile on her face.  
  
She turned back to the younger girl.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
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"Connor, come play with me." At the imperious little order, he sighed, but stood up. Tugging on his hand, she towed him toward the dress up trunk of clothes that Cordy had found, some old dresses that she'd worn, but weren't right in some way, some of Angel's old shirts, with blood stains hidden by patches, and a sparkly tiara.  
  
"We're gonna play Princess," Jane smiled up at him. He swallowed.  
  
"Uh, okay.."  
  
Five minutes later, Princess Connor looked at himself in the mirror in a long, pink dress, and a sparkly tiara, and groaned.  
  
"C'mon, Connor. We gotta play," Jane protested. Her own dress dragged behind her, and draped over her feet.  
  
"Why can't you be the princess?" he asked, fearful of the answer.  
  
"Cuz It's gotta be the bigger person," she said, with child's logic. "And Angel plays princess." Connor snickered at the mental picture of Angel in the same silver plastic tiara, and dress. Then, catching a glimpse of himself again, shuddered. His dad enduring the same thing did *not* make it any better.  
  
"Okay, so what do I have to do?" he asked his tiny emperor. She put her head on one side, considering.  
  
"Well, you're the princess, and I'm the queen. So we're gonna go have tea," Jane announced brightly. Picking up her skirts carefully, she sat down on the couch, where the purple plastic tea set was set out. Picking up a cup daintily, she sipped at it.  
  
"Go on," she encouraged. He stared flatly at the empty teacup. Being a teacup, it stared blankly back at him.  
  
"There's nothing in it," he told her.  
  
"Pretend!' she ordered.  
  
"Pretend what?"  
  
Her lip quivered. Hurriedly, he picked up the cup, and drank air from it, making slurping sounds.  
  
"You're doing it too quickly!" she complained. "Take sips. Like proper ladies do."  
  
"Okay, okay," he muttered, taking tiny sips of air, praying Dawn would never find out he was playing princess and tea party with an eight year old.  
  
"I wanna play a different game now," Jane announced. Sighing with relief, Connor pulled off the plastic tiara.  
  
"You count to fifty, " she instructed, with a giggle, "And I go hide."  
  
"Okay," he answered, with a long-suffering sigh.  
  
"One, two, three-"  
  
Half an hour later, the Miracle child was panicking. He told himself that it was impossible to lose an eight-year-old in a hotel this big. He told himself that he was the son of two vampires, and *ought* to be able to find Jane.  
  
Still, the fact remained, he couldn't find her. So he was panicking.  
  
It was also fifteen minutes past her bedtime, something he was very aware of, since Cordelia's very graphic threats of what she would do if Jane didn't get to bed on time.  
  
He'd checked the bedrooms, the lobby, the office, the basement, the bathrooms..The kitchen. Running towards it, he found Jane curled up, sound asleep under the table clutching the remains of a chocolate-chip cookie. Gently, he lifted her up, and carried her up the stairs, and back to her room.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~  
  
A/N: Yep, Jane *isn't* smart enough to get away to the fighting. It was just plain fluff. Sorry to disappoint! Lol. Pleeease, oh god, review. I need it. Plus, if you have a spare moment, check out (I can't believe I'm saying this) Ivorycat's fic 'Magical Mayhem'. I've been beta-ing from chapter three onwards, so if you wanna see my work start, go ahead. Ooh, and please, all reviewers, go read Camp Tess on gidgetgirl's profile, my characters are in there, it's fantabulous, you need to persuade her *NOT* to give it up. So, many many reviews would be good. 


	11. Adults

A/N: Big thankee to Ivory, who's uploading this for lil' moi. Seeing as Bill Gates is evil an' all.  
  
Yup. You're all gonna hate me, if I've done my job well enough. Please note, I adore flames. So much fun. So go ahead.  
  
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"Ugggh." With a disgruntled sigh, Faith dropped down onto the couch, and leant back, her eyes closing. Jess stared at her a moment, then, stalked off upstairs.  
  
Moments later, Angel, Cordelia, and a hyped up, excited Gabby and Faye burst in, chattering loudly.  
  
"Everything go alright?" Angel asked Faith. The dark Slayer opened one eye, and looked at him.  
  
"Depends on your meaning of 'alright'," she answered. Angel watched as the two Potentials headed up the staircase and then turned to Cordelia.  
  
"I think we'd better find Connor."  
  
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Faye strode into the bedroom with Gabby, still talking, then fell silent as she saw Jess seated on her bed. She bit her lip at the fury painted onto Jess's face, and at the bruises lividly marking the pale, angry features.  
  
"Did you have fun?" Jess asked, in a biting tone. Faye dropped her eyes.  
  
"I'm going downstairs," Gabby whispered, looking from one girl to another. She knew from past experience, not to interfere. The blazing anger, and sarcasm turning on her, then being ignored. She felt her stomach drop as she remembered what it had been like, when Travers had been only too happy for Jess to show her displeasure by fighting. She shuddered unconsciously.  
  
"Fine. Get out then," Jess snapped. Faye stood there, motionless, preparing silently for the onslaught.  
  
Gabby leant against the door, trying to summon up courage to either walk downstairs, and admit Jess controlled her, or go in..and...She rested her head against the solid wood, and waited, miserably.  
  
"So," the older girl began, standing up, "Did you have fun?"  
  
"Yes," Faye muttered. Jess curled a lip.  
  
"You actually kill anything?" Faye's eyes met her own, dull brown, the sparkle that had been in them only a moment before, dead.  
  
"No," she answered, lifting her chin.  
  
"Thought so. You're no good as a Potential, Faye. You'd be better off dead. Stupid, fat little cry-baby, always running to Starr whenever you lost. I don't know why he picked *you*," Jess said angrily, glaring at Faye. The girl stood stoically, not making any reply.  
  
"You've always been useless, haven't you, Faye? Whenever Travers wanted us to spar, no one ever wanted to partner you. Ana, Mel, Georgina, they all died, and none of them ever wanted to be your friend," Jess continued, her voice flavoured with spite, trying to wound the younger girl.  
  
"And Angel takes pity on you, like you'd ever make the Slayer, whatever she says. That's the only reason he took you, you know. It would have been me and Gabby, but you'd probably get yourself killed if you even looked at a vampire. Oh, except for the evil one you've made *friends* with, that is," Jess finished witheringly.  
  
Faye still looked at her.  
  
"You always were a disgrace. Even watching your parents die when vampires attacked, you didn't do anything," Jess hissed, sitting down. With a choking sound, Faye turned, and ran out of the room, and down the stairs. Gabby, trembling with anger, and shock, stepped back in.  
  
"I can't believe you," she began.  
  
"Save it," Jess interrupted, her blue eyes icy.  
  
"No, I won't," Gabby answered, her confidence rising. "You've become a real bitch, Jessamy . Faye didn't do anything wrong!"  
  
"Fine, side with her," Jess snapped, turning her back on the younger girl. Gabby opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again.  
  
"I'm going downstairs," she said shortly. "Try to grow up."  
  
When Jess turned, incredulous, Gabby had gone.  
  
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Angel tapped on Connor's door. He slipped an arm around Cordelia's shoulders, and she leant against him, smiling slightly.  
  
Connor pulled the door open, his face appearing at the crack.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"So. How'd it go?" Cordy asked. Connor shrugged, leaving the door open, as he sat back down on the bed.  
  
"Okay, I guess." He folded his arms. "So, patrolling?"  
  
Cordy tucked a piece of hair behind her ears, looking at Angel.  
  
"It was good," his father replied. Connor nodded.  
  
"So, nothing happened?" Cordelia asked again, probing slightly. Connor scowled.  
  
"It was okay. "  
  
"Good," Angel nodded.  
  
"Good," Cordelia echoed.  
  
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Faye raced through the now empty lobby, crashing into a person standing in the doorway as she moved past them, her sketchpad still tucked under her arm. Tears blurred her vision, as she turned out of the hotel's street, and sat down, her back against the cool stone of a building, to cry properly.  
  
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Lindsey dodged the small streak of crying teenager, and looked around, bewildered. Angel hadn't had *another* miracle child, had he?  
  
Spread eagled across the couch, in an unconsciously provocative position, Faith lay fast asleep, her chocolate brown hair tumbled around her face, fists balled against her sides. A small prickling of desire sprang over Lindsey, though he quickly repressed it, his jaw tightening. Lauren's mother.. He pushed it away. She'd been more a solace for Darla, than anything else.  
  
He sat down on the opposite couch, and propped his chin on his hand, staring into space, the photographs that remained tucked inside his jacket.  
  
Shock was washing over him, replacing the anger. His little girl. He swallowed, remembering how he'd hurried her that morning. Lauren always.. Had always, loved everything about the morning, taking it slow, laid back. Like he used to do. His heart ached as he recalled the sight, the sounds of her. The silky feel of soft brown baby hair, the huge grin, the bright sparkle in the blue eyes. Chubby little arms closing around his neck in a loving hug. The lisping, 'night night Daddy' as she went to sleep. His head shot up, the blue eyes blazing with grief, his jaw set.  
  
A young girl stepped down the stairs towards him. Honey blonde hair hung over her shoulders, and her eyes were lowered, until she saw him, and then large, moss-green eyes settled on his face.  
  
"Can I help you?" she asked politely, her voice low. He blinked. Perhaps the colouring, and the memories of .. She looked so much like Darla, he shook his head a second, then focused on her again. Childish features, in adolescence, he guessed around thirteen.  
  
"Does.Angel still work here?" he asked, his voice rough. She blinked.  
  
"Yeah. I can go get him for you, if you want?" she asked. He nodded. She looked towards the sleeping Slayer, and a tiny smile appeared.  
  
"I'll go," she mumbled, turning towards the stairs. His mind clicked into gear. Another teenager. A girl. Even Angel couldn't work like that..could he? Cordelia.Fred?  
  
Moments later, the vampire descended, a surprised expression on his face, that turned rapidly dark.  
  
"Lindsey," he growled.  
  
"I need help." It cost him so much to come to this guy, and beg. Not the begging, hell, he'd barely have survived as a kid without begging from neighbours, begging for himself, and his siblings, but the vampire had, to all extents and purposes, kicked him out of the city. That, and stolen Darla. And the 'cops suck' sign. Three pull-overs. But, apart from Wolfram and Hart, the vampire was the only one who could really help at all.  
  
"Right." Angel folded his arms, and looked the other man up and down. "Why?"  
  
From the couch, Faith stirred. Stretching, her eyes blearily focused on the man standing beside the vampire.  
  
"Gonna introduce me, Angel?" she drawled, Lindsey gave her a cursory glance, then turned back to the vampire.  
  
"Are you going to, or not?" he asked. Angel looked at him again.  
  
"I'll help," he said finally.  
  
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Sitting back against the building, Faye sketched absently, tearstains still on her cheeks, shining in the lamplight. Looking down at the pad, she shivered. The lines appearing were clearly showing the picture from her dreams. Why had she even thought of it? It was disgusting, when she'd woken up, she'd been ill, it was so horrible. The little girl had so clearly been gorgeous when she was alive, why she had seen her like this .. Her fingers trembled, and she dropped the pencil, a shiver running down her spine. Faye looked up instinctively.  
  
A hand slipped across her mouth, silencing her screams, as the blade slid cleanly into her throat. The sketchpad lay forgotten.  
  
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Starr opened the main door, and slipped inside, her smile still floating on her lips. The entire experience had been... eye opening. The power that was available to her, if she became.. Part of her had relished the fight, the conquering of her fear, and the enemy, delighting in an innate ability, while sorely feeling the lack of power. She glanced around, but the foyer was empty. Running up the stairs lightly, she sat down hard on her bed, laughing softly.  
  
Wesley paused in the hall, hearing the little giggle, an indulgent smile crossing his face. He knocked on the door. Starr sprang up, and pulled it open.  
  
"First patrol fun?" the ex-Watcher asked dryly. She grinned, and nodded, her black curls bobbing around her neck. Her cheeks were still flushed red with excitement.  
  
"I never realised there was so much.. Travers, he seemed to make it so... He didn't describe the feeling of it, oh, it was.." She hugged herself tightly, whirling around happily. "Magical. I actually slew a vampire tonight, Wesley. Me! I always thought only the true Slayer, and yet," Starr smiled up at him, her grey eyes filled with wonder. "I was part of it."  
  
"It's an amazing experience," he agreed, sitting down on the bedspread. She dropped down beside him.  
  
"What was it like, when you. You killed a vampire?" she asked softly, her eyes fixed on his own. He smiled, remembering.  
  
"The Watcher's Academy allows its students to experience such things as part of training. I was sixteen years old, handed a weapon, and led into a caged arena, with floodlights upon it, and an unarmed vampire, who hadn't been fed for weeks, was led out, restrained, so I could slay it, without getting hurt. And I was bloody terrified!" he laughed. She joined in.  
  
"So, not quite the same," he finished, smiling at her. She nodded.  
  
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The scream that broke the silence was shrill, and terrifying. Starr and Wesley raced down the corridor, following Cordelia, as they ran into Jane's room. The child sat up in bed, her eyes wide, her pupils huge, and black, mouth open in a scream.  
  
"She must have had another nightmare," Cordelia said, sitting down on the bed. She reached out to hold the child, and pulled her close, holding her tightly. Jane stiffened, but then, her thin shoulders shuddered, and she began to cry.  
  
"Shhh, honey. Shhh," Cordy crooned, rocking her back and forth, as Angel stepped into the room.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I don't know," Cordelia whispered, hugging Jane to her. "A nightmare."  
  
iGirl, blood, so much, blood spilt there, fire, flames, so much blood, throat cut, eyes wide, screaming, alive, dead, fire, burning, burning/i  
  
"Sweetie, it was a nightmare. It isn't real, it isn't real,' Cordy promised. Jane leant against her, tears still spilling down her cheeks.  
  
"I've got to get back. Lindsey, he's downstairs. In the office," Angel said awkwardly. Wesley glanced at him.  
  
"I'll join you," he said shortly.  
  
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Faith leant against the wall, her arms folded as she studied the man seated on her left.  
  
"Why Angel?" she asked. Lindsey lifted his head to look at her.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Why Angel?" she repeated, shrugging. "I mean, you were with a bad ass law firm, why not go to them?"  
  
"You ever known kids?" he asked her. Her mind flashed to a little girl, saw her face once more, and felt the bittersweet pain in her heart, but shrugged again, nonchalantly. "Might do."  
  
"Well, take a look," he said, dropping a sheaf of photographs onto Angel's desk. She picked one up, more from curiosity than anything, but her stomach churned.  
  
A little girl, beautiful and healthy, only some dick had decided to shove a bunch of holes in her neck, and drain her blood dry. She dropped it abruptly, as if her fingers had been burned, and moved back, shaking.  
  
Some pervert could have done that to any kid, and their parents, sisters, brothers would never have known. Her stomach rolled, and she felt physically ill.  
  
"Who was she?" she managed. Lindsey watched her.  
  
"My daughter. Lauren," he answered finally. "I want to find the person who did that to her."  
  
"And we'll help," Angel's voice sounded, and both turned to look at the vampire. "Lindsey."  
  
"Thank you," the man muttered, scooping up the photographs. "I'm going back to my hotel. You can reach me here." He dropped a card onto the desk, and walked out.  
  
"That was.. Short," Wesley commented.  
  
"Don't blame him," Faith spoke up, not looking at him.  
  
"So what do we do now?" Wesley asked Angel. The vampire picked up the photograph again.  
  
"The symbol. We need to find out what it means. Is this the first murder like this? It's ritual, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," Wesley said slowly. "The piercing of the throat by a tri-bladed knife, in order to allow the blood from the jugular vein fully. Used in Druidic sacrifices, I think. Dates from about 600 BC."  
  
"Exactly. Who is doing this, and where," Angel ordered grimly.  
  
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"I brought tea," Starr said softly, setting down the china cup. Wesley gave her a brief smile.  
  
"Thank you, Starr. What time is it?" he yawned. She looked at her watch.  
  
"Ten to three. Want some help?"  
  
He smiled again, gratefully. "If you wouldn't mind.?" She took a book from his hand, and flipped it open, sitting down on the other side of the desk.  
  
"Where are the others?" he asked, a moment later. She looked up.  
  
"Gunn and Angel are looking on the street, trying to find out if anyone knows of ritual murders, Cordelia's asleep, with Jane, Fred's doing a computer search and I'm here." She shrugged one shoulder, and gave him a faint smile.  
  
"Jess, Faye and Gabby?"  
  
"Haven't seen Gabby and Faye, I think they're with the others. Jess is upstairs though, sulking about something. She won't tell me what."  
  
Wesley yawned again. "Sounds like any other thirteen year old to me."  
  
"Ooh! Found something!" She pointed, and hurriedly, he got up, and stood behind her to take a look.  
  
"It's the same symbol, but my Greek isn't that good. It says something about, 'restoring what comes before.' That, or, 'my duck has six wheels.'"  
  
Wesley shook his head. "Your Greek is terrible. It is used in rituals of the bringing back of what has gone before." She raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Restoring isn't *that* bad a translation."  
  
"Restoration happens to a painting," he answered, with a grin. She shrugged.  
  
"Meh. Potato, Potatoe."  
  
He smiled slightly, shaking his head. "So, the symbol is used in a ritual to bring back something." He pored over the text. "Hmm. It doesn't refer to a particular object, I was hoping the Tool of Persephone would be linked somehow, but it doesn't seem-"  
  
"Tool of Persephone?" Gunn was propped against the doorway, an eyebrow raised. "That's not exactly a mystical name. Tool?"  
  
Wesley glared. "Yes. Tool. Sometimes, the creators did come straight to the point."  
  
Starr hopped off the desk where she'd perched. "So, street people. How'd that work out?"  
  
Gunn glanced at her. "Nothin'. There's some big shit out there. People are hidin'. We pulled out zip." He grinned. "Beat the crap outta a coupla demons though."  
  
"Fun," Starr said brightly. She turned back to Wesley. "Seeing as it's early in the morning, I'm going to try and sleep."  
  
"Goodnight, then," Wesley replied. She pushed her hair behind her ears.  
  
"See ya Gunn."  
  
"G'night," the black man replied.  
  
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Starr opened the door. The bedroom was in darkness, pitch black.  
  
"Faye?" she whispered. No answer. Yawning, she slipped into her pyjamas, and beneath the covers, sleepily. The younger girl was fast asleep.  
  
*  
  
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The sketchpad lay abandoned on the sidewalk, the half completed sketch still recognisable. Lauren's pretty, blood spattered face looked up from the page.  
  
*  
  
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A/N: I have to repeat, it's getting easier and easier just to shelve SR, and the sequels, as I can't upload, and have to persuade, and beg people to do so for me. Lighten the load for me, and R/R 


	12. Kidnap

A/N: One more chapter left ...  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~  
  
The kitchen was only ever quiet at this time in the morning. Before Jess, Gabby, Faye, Starr, Lorne, Fred, Gunn, and Cordy were awake. Normally, Connor would be asleep too, but since the bundle of skinny eight year old had landed on him at six that morning, he was up.  
  
Jane was playing with her oatmeal, as gloomily, he watched. Her eyes lifted, and met his, and then lowered. The little girl was always silent the day after one of her nightmares.  
  
As she finished, he asked, awkwardly, "Do you want to play hide and go seek?" It was the only game Jane liked, apart from tea-party, and that was never a good suggestion to make. She smiled suddenly, and nodded.  
  
"I wanna hide," she stated. He put his hands over his eyes, and began counting, as she slid off her seat, and scurried away.  
  
At fifty, Connor uncovered his eyes, and stood up. As he walked into the lobby, Gabby was walking down the stairs, rubbing her eyes sleepily.  
  
"Hey, Connor," she yawned. "What're you doing?"  
  
"Hide and seek, with Jane," he answered, shrugging. "Know where she'd hide?"  
  
"No idea. She's good at that game," Gabby grinned. "Doubt you'll find her."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Jane crouched under Wesley's desk, and hugged her knees. Connor would never find her here!  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Starr stretched sleepily, and hugged her pillow tightly. The shard of sunlight that had woken her played across the comforter.  
  
"Faye? You awake yet?" she asked, her eyes still shut. No answer.  
  
She opened her eyes, and looked across at the other bed, a puzzled frown crossing her face.  
  
It was made, with the pillows neatly fluffed, and the comforter smoothed. But one corner of the comforter had been flipped up, and tucked under the pillow, creating a crease in the spread, exactly as Starr had made it, yesterday.  
  
Yanking on her dressing gown, Starr made for the stairs, hurrying down them. Faye hadn't been there last night.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Angel, have you seen Faye?" Starr gabbled, her eyes wide, and desperate as she stared at the vampire. Angel shook his head.  
  
"No, I thought she was-"  
  
"Has Cordy, Lorne, Gunn, Fred, Wesley-" she tried, but at Angel's look, she flung herself towards the door, and ran through the small garden to the street, a frantic expression on her face.  
  
She stopped at the gate, looking around wildly at people crossing the street. Finally, her eyes settled on a small square of white, a few yards away. She moved quickly to it, and then swallowed, her eyes big, and scared, tears prickling in them.  
  
Lindsey's daughter's face was sketched painstakingly in Faye's distinctive hand, and an arch of droplets, in a dark red colour had fallen across it. She bent, and as if in a dream, picked up the book, and walked back to the hotel.  
  
"Starr?" Angel questioned as she walked towards him. Her eyes lifted, and met his.  
  
"Faye's dead," she said, in a monotone, holding out the book. Cordelia walked down the stairs, and paused there, looking at Starr.  
  
"Starr? What's the matter?" she asked, concernedly. Starr sat down heavily on the couch, and began to sob.  
  
"What's happening?" Faith asked, at the top of the flight of stairs. She looked down at Cordelia trying to comfort Starr, and then at Angel. "What's going on?" she repeated.  
  
They checked the place, walking out, Angel keeping to the early morning shadows, the shade of a wall, the shadow of a truck, standing back as they stood around the spot.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Jane clambered into Wesley's big chair, and whirled around, bored. Connor had been ages finding her. As the chair spun, she knocked a pile of papers to the floor. Sliding out of the leather chair, she bent to pick them up, and uncovered a photograph. Her eyes widened as she focused on the image of the dead child.  
  
"Are you in here?" Connor called, his hand on the knob of the office door. The last place the little girl could be was inside. Suddenly, her unearthly shriek rang out, and he burst into the room. She looked up at him with big, frightened eyes, and then someone hit him, and he fell forwards, seeing a man inject Jane in the arm as she struggled to get free.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
As they ran through the streets the entire crew of AI pursuing the van containing Connor and Jane, it veered sharply around a corner, and then a door opened, and Connor was flung out, bumping along the road until he rolled to a stop, unconscious.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
A/N: Uber-long chapter up next, and the ending of Silent Reverie, with a twist in the tail! Remember to R/R! 


	13. Final Battle

A/N: Last chapter. Should be all wrapped up .. Or is it?  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Connor!" Angel longed to run to his son, but the boy lay flung out in the sunshine. Cordelia gave the vampire one last hurried look, and threw herself forward to get to Connor, followed by the others. Angel waited in the shadows impatiently, his face vamping out in annoyance.  
  
"Connor?" He blinked, opening his eyes, and seeing Cordelia bent over him. He coughed, and sat up, wincing.  
  
"I'm okay," he said, shaking her off. "They got Jane."  
  
They helped him into the hotel, and sat him down on the couch. He sighed, and leant his head back.  
  
"Who took her, did you see them?" Starr demanded, her voice rising. Wesley looked at her with concern, and whispering something in her ear, led her away, and into the office, closing the door.  
  
Connor looked up at his father.  
  
"I didn't get a good look. She's still alive though. They gave her something, knocked her out .. " he sighed again. "They jumped me. Didn't even see them coming."  
  
He sat back, turning his face away from them.  
  
Starr and Wesley re-entered the room, Starr's eyes were red, and she was snuffling, but looked considerably less frantic.  
  
"We were thinking," Wesley announced. "I've heard of a spell, calling up a guardian, to find someone. If we used it, it would take us to Jane, wherever she is. As she's still alive, the spell would work."  
  
Angel and Cordelia exchanged looks, and nodded.  
  
"Do it. I have a call to make," Angel replied shortly.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Lindsey's hands were folded behind his head, and his posture led one to believe he was relaxed. The ex lawyer was anything but. Whenever he closed his eyes, pictures of Lauren surged, her shy smile as she peeked around the table playing hide and seek, or her laugh replayed in his ears, high and sweet, a gurgling little giggle.  
  
Or the way she looked when she was dead. Either way, Lindsey hadn't slept much.  
  
The 'phone sat beside the bed in his dingy room rang. He sat up. Only one person had his number. Angel. He grabbed for the phone, fingers fumbling.  
  
"Hello? Lindsey," he answered, his voice rough with tiredness.  
  
"Angel. We've found a way to get to the people who killed Lauren."  
  
Lindsey hung up the phone, and snatched his jacket.  
  
* ~ * ~ * * ~ * ~  
  
The tiny pin prick of blue light danced in front of their eyes, as the eight watched, grimly. Angel, Cordelia, Fred, Gunn, Connor, Faith, Lindsey, Wesley and Starr, holding their weapons in their hands were ready to follow.  
  
The blot of light shot off, and the car followed immediately, chasing the light through the streets. They'd waited till after dark, on tenterhooks, as it would give them the upper hand, and meant that the vampire would be able to fight.  
  
The tyres squealed as they took another sharp corner, but nobody commented. The one thought was to find the damn place.  
  
Running through traffic lights, screeching around bends, and then they were out, down a private road, and outside a large, tall building. The light flickered, then moved inside. They jumped out, and chased it.  
  
The guard's eyes were hurting. He'd been on a twenty-four hour shift, and it wasn't like anyone was coming down here, it was too damn out of the way. He allowed them to close, but opened them again. Falling asleep on the job was not an option, with that short guy in charge.  
  
The glass doors smashed, large shards of glass crashing to the floor as a man hurled himself inside, followed by others, handing each other through, an artillery of weapons clutched in their hands. He rose in his chair, but the lead man growled, and turned, flashing him a gruesome face, filled with fangs, and ridges. He sat back down again helplessly, as they ran for the stairs.  
  
"Angel, look," Cordy pointed out, as they ran up the stairs. He turned. There was no way to miss it. The distinctive Wolfram and Hart logo on the wall. He growled, and continued running.  
  
The light stopped on the top floor. Steel grey carpet was below, and the walls were painted pristine white. A door handle was set into the wall. They stopped, some panting, and Angel turned the handle.  
  
They were in a small room, filled with monitors. Looking around, and up at them, Fred spotted Jane, struggling in restraints, and yelled. There was only one way to go. Forwards. Opening the second door, the AI team pushed through.  
  
The room was huge, the same plain white, with a huge pyre built in the centre. Suit clad Wolfram and hart associates stood at intermediate points around the room. A man in a hooded robe was bent over Jane, in the centre of the room, a knife held in his hand. But that wasn't all. Demons of various breeds were everywhere, blocking their way forward to the little girl. And Gavin Parks stood in front of them, a friendly smile on his face.  
  
"Welcome!" he announced. "Don't bother closing the door behind you. It's taken care of." They looked around. A nasty looking demon, covered in purple spines smiled back, blocking their escape.  
  
Angel looked straight at Gavin.  
  
"Tell me why I'm not snapping your neck," he demanded. Gavin's smile broadened.  
  
"The great Angelus. Because the minute you do, she," he pointed to Jane, " Dies. Oh, she'll die anyway, of course, but your way, it'll be painful." His eyes sparkled.  
  
"Angel, don't," Cordelia warned. The vampire's grip tightened on his battleaxe.  
  
"Why are you trying to kill her?' he asked. Gavin looked satisfied.  
  
"Finally. The question. The reason is there's a little ritual taking place. You took something of ours a while back, and we want it back. And it requires the blood of three children. So we used yours." Gavin shrugged, then looked straight at Lindsey. "Oh, if you're wondering, yes it *was* personal. I don't like you," he stage whispered. Lindsey's jaw tightened.  
  
"So why not kill Jane at the hotel? Why kidnap her, and go to all this trouble?" Angel asked. Gavin grinned this time.  
  
"Clever boy," he announced. "Because, the last blood has to be cast on the fire while it's still warm. You were so *attached* to the little one," he glanced back at Jane, who squeaked with fear, the robed man's hand over her mouth, "We used her."  
  
Cordelia looked at the fire, and blinked. It was familiar, a large banked fire, and ..  
  
Visions of blood, and fire, and a pair of white hands dipped in blood, a voice screaming, Three! Three!'  
  
She glanced at Starr. The young woman was deathly pale, the same realisation crossing her face.  
  
"I don't get it," Cordelia said aloud. "What did we take from you?"  
  
"You'll soon see," Gavin said. "Now, guys, take care of them." He turned back to the fire as the demons walked forward, menacingly.  
  
Simultaneously, AI drew weapons, and spiralled into action. Faith ran at the nearest demon, fist connecting with skill, legs flashing around in a roundhouse kick, that knocked him down. Angel's axe flashing, slicing through one demon, and into another. Cordelia and Fred, crossbows and bolts flying into the fray as they fought towards them. Connor lashing out at everything, Gunn, Starr and Wesley, smashing on demons, taking out as many as possible. Lindsey chased after Gavin, grimly, as he cornered the small man.  
  
The fight was tough, blood smearing the faces of the nine fighting their way forward. Tens of demons moving forwards relentlessly, trying to crush them back. Angel managed to catch Jane's eyes. The little girl was watching him patiently, her eyes focused in a steady gaze, settled on him, full of hope. He turned away, and slashed at the demon in front of him viciously.  
  
Lindsey found the way forward to Gavin blocked by a tall demon, and fell back, lifting his weapon. The lawyer himself was stood in front of the pyre, surveying the damage.  
  
"You've got to do it now," he hissed to the man with the knife. "They're gaining forwards. We can't risk it. We have to do it now!"  
  
The man nodded, and bent over the girl, who squirmed against the restraints, panicked once again.  
  
Cordelia saw them lean forwards, intent in their eyes, and pushed forward with more strength than she knew she had.  
  
"Angel!" she screamed. The vampire whipped around, to see the knife lower to Jane's neck. He moved with supernatural speed, and knocked the knife out of the robed man's hand, just as it nicked the little girl's neck.  
  
Angel saw the blood droplet gleam on Jane's neck, and lifted his head, in full vampire visage, to look at the robed man.  
  
"I'm gonna kill you for that," he said calmly. The man ran.  
  
The demons were slowly dying. Where once where tens were only a few, vicious and brutal.  
  
Gavin dived for the knife, lifting it to the little girl, Angel turned from pummelling the man to see, helplessly, as it slid closer towards the girl, no-one able to help her.  
  
The pyre flared, and then, complete darkness fell over the group. The demons dropped to the ground, what few of them there were, and left the AI crew standing in the room, as a cloud of light appeared over the now extinguished pyre, the trickles of dark red blood seeping out onto the granite coloured floor.  
  
They dropped weapons, and stared, as a well known face appeared in the cloud, hazy, and dream-like.  
  
"Darla?" Angel asked, his voice astonished. She laughed, its familiar rise and fall bittersweet to Lindsey's ears.  
  
"Yes," she answered. "I'm still dead, Angel. Don't worry." She smiled at them, and cocked her head on one side.  
  
"I didn't think you'd make it, but you did. You delayed them long enough- If you hadn't, I'd be here, but this would be different," she said vaguely. No one noticed as Starr slipped to the floor.  
  
She looked at them, no laughter now in her eyes.  
  
"They wanted me alive," she paused, "well, dead, actually. Just walking. If you hadn't stopped the ritual, I would be, and there'd be something bad on your hands. But I haven't got much time. It took so much to appear, do whatever the hell this is. All the prophecy tricks, they couldn't deal with it, over-riding it was hard.I'm sorry for the pain, the bloodshed," her eyes softened as she looked directly at Lindsey, "I couldn't stop it. But something far worse is coming. Something that'll divide you down the middle, and rip your hearts out. You have to fight it. You have to win. Or the way you know things will change." She smiled sweetly, and sadly, and then the light flickered out, leaving them there.  
  
Lindsey fulfilled his emotions by grabbing hold of Gavin, who was still frozen to the spot nearby, in disbelief, and punched him, hard. The lawyer fell to the floor like a stone.  
  
Angel stepped across Parks' prone body, and helped Jane out of the restraints, and lifted her up in his arms.  
  
"Time to go home," he announced, as they all shook off the tired muscles, and limped towards the exit.  
  
Only Starr stood there still, in the centre of the room, having clambered her way up. When she spoke, her voice was uncertain, and shaky.  
  
"Hate to spoil the celebrations, guys, but," her voice quaked with bewilderment. "I'm blind."  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
A/N: The end. Watch out for the sequel, 'the Academy' coming soon!  
  
(mwahahahahaha) 


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